Memories of Ice
by hao
Summary: Explore the Events Before and During the Rio Insurrection. What happened? Read and find out!  Chapter 8 & 9 UP FINALLY! R&R!
1. Story Outline

Memories of Ice

Story Outline

Greetings everyone, this story has been brewing in my mind for already a long time. Despite a busy schedule, I can no longer resist the urge to put it to pen I find the tiberium universe to be a very rich platform to explore. The unstoppable tiberium infestation a metaphor of ever-worsening human habitat, the GDI, with all it s wealth and technology ultimately fails at stopping the infestation.  
So I decided to explore these issues by seen through the eyes of people who actually goes through the hellish green infestation and all the consequences it brings, placing myself into their position as good as I can. This story will be less focused on gun fire and more an the everyday life of the denizens of a dying world, from the bubble-boys (blue zone civilians) semi-oblivious to the cancer ravaging everything outside the walled Zone to the people awaiting the inevitable doom as tiberium encroaches ever closer. From the battle weary but still motivated GDI soldiers determined to defend with their lives the last vestige of pristine soil to the brain washed and drugged up Nod fanatics willing to slay their way into heaven.

Finally, I will put a greater emphasis on speculating how every technology works in the tiberium universe. Including the infrastructure and geographic makeup of the Blue and Yellow Zones.

Special thanks to feastguy101, Peter for encouragement and info about Rio de Janeiro. 


	2. Walled Paradise I

Chapter I: The walled Paradise

Blue Zone B-2, North America, 2 years before Rio incident.

monorail mass transit system. Line 12, fare 2 credits for adults

People, please! Please .keep it down, I shouted to the noisy crowd of undergraduated students me and my fellow phD student Dough Boy, as I call him, are to take care of during this field trip. I sighed in resignation and amusement as the students ignore my pathetic orders, I once had been every bit as noisy as they are now, albeit less drunk them most of them. We are from the faculty of environmental chemistry of the interim institute for higher education, which is centrally administrated by GDI civilian authority. Ever since the nation states broke down, GDI has fused all higher education institutions into a single entity. The idea was to keep an easy to manage interim system until sufficient land has been reclaimed so that self-governing bodies could be restored. However, the reality is that not only did humanity failed to reclaim lost land from the extraterrestrial entity known as tiberium to any significant extend, it finds itself slowly being consumed by the very thing that was once hailed as the savoir of the energy starved planet.  
Such was the sorry state earth found itself in, what remains of a once proud civilization finds itself barricaded into the last patches of the earth s surface that still resembles earth.

As such, studying environmental science was a popular career choice and GDI wastes no effort in encouraging graduates to sign up for Zone duty, with recruitment ad s and documentaries about the dangers of tiberium and the . Hefty bonuses are promised, they are really desperate for qualified personnel to fight the deadly infestation.

I watched the magnificent view as the monorail carried us through the bizarre mix of high tech urban centers intermingled with serene looking patches of green. The blue Zones were of curious design. The urban areas are concentrated towards the perimeter, with parks dotted in between the skyscrapers. Greatest possible care was given to ensure to leave as much area as possible to plant and animal life. More towards the center, there are the orchards. One of the very few places on earth that still produces natural food, the vast majority of consumables are chemical converts of tiberium. Yes that right, the mass nutrients, namely carbohydrates, fat and proteins are produced through the tiberium industry nowadays, since no soil outside the blue zones is fertile, or save enough for agriculture, actually, no soil outside the blue zones is fertile enough for any plant larger than a scrub to be more accurate and the blue Zones themselves don t have enough space for serious grain production, the staple foods are now chemical synthetics, a sickening though for me that I m actually eating the very cancer that I m researching how to contain and destroy.  
As a result of the synthetic nature of our food, micronutrients are lacking and people had to either follow a strict and complicated dietary supplement plan. Or if you are really rich, buy fresh, nature grow fruits and vegetables from the orchards in second preservation ring. Needless to say, since space is at premium in the Blue Zones, these nature grown stuffy come at extraordinary, rip-off prices.  
Aside from producing much needed fresh food, the second preservation ring also serves as a buffer zone between the urban ring and the innermost, wildlife preserving reserve. Access to this zone is restricted to authorized research personnel. There, everything is preserved the way it looked in a forest in the early 21st century. GDI is so feverent in protecting it that few people, even those who had lived in this Zone most of their live, had ever set foot into them. It is a sobering though that few people nowadays had even seen how earth was supposed to look like with their own eyes.

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I only have enough time for this much for now, I ll try to update it as often as possible. Tell me what ya think of it. I tried in this chapter to let the Zone life come alive, not just some background map for Mammoth tanks. By the way, I got the idea for the scenic monorail ride from half-life The cocentric plant Zones and the inner reservation Zone are modeled after an actual restricted access nature reserve I ve visited Don t worry about the idyllic setting, I will go to the dismal places soon enough!


	3. Walled Paradise II

The walled Paradise 2

The whole zone was interlinked via a complex net of monorails, the rails are suspended at considerable heights, leaving more ground to be utilized for plant life and other purposes, it also allows the passenger to have a phenomenal view on the land itself.

As our train passes between the canyons formed by adjacent, modern and expensive looking skyscrapers, it is easy to forget the purpose of this place….were it not the ominous gigantic gray shapes in the distant, shaped like an sign of an upcoming storm on a clear sailing day.

The massive, concrete walls, entire six hundred meters in height and nine hundred meters thick at the base is a heart sinking reminder of what has become of our world. Once a proud blue planet thriving with life, the vast majority of terrestrial and virtually all marine life forms are now extinct Replacing them are the horribly mutated and for the most part highly dangerous tiberium based, or tiberium infested organisms.

From space, earth looks not unlike the tomographic photo of a terminal stage cancer patient. Where originally the rainforests were, an eerily fluorescent green belt with uneven protrusions, like metastatic malignant tumors, crawls around the entire equator. Patches of the same green protruding, like the daughter nodes of a parent tumor, all around the globe in a seemly chaotic pattern. In between these tumors, the land is a sick looking brownish gray and the once sapphire blue oceans has taken on the looks of a giant cesspool with different, uneven coloring ranging from green to black. What an ironic twist this is, considering that it was tiberium based nanosurgery that finally made human cancer a curable disease.

As the train passed the urban zone and closer to the perimeter walls, the relaxed atmosphere the clean and comfortable urban look changed notably, here, the buildings are significantly sturdier and of dull but strong look. For it where the zone bound industrial areas and GDI Blue Zone Security or (GBZSS) Service barracks are located. The buildings here are not just build to house the advance industrial machineries but also are designed to withstand significant punishment in the event of an attack.

GBZSS, mostly made up of fresh recruits and retired veterans, is the branch of GDI military responsible for the defense and policing of blue zones and forms the reserve of front-line GDI forces. Unlike hazard zone bound front-line GDI forces, services in GBZSS is compulsory, no exceptions. Military training was integrated into the school system and by the time the pupils are young adults, virtually everyone was already a qualified soldier, such is the level of precaution taken by GDI high command.

The train sped closer towards the massive perimeter wall, we could make out the military parking lots in the distance, rows of predator tanks, guardian APC's and slingshots parked neatly at the foot of the mountain like wall, the blue Zones are so short of space that the barracks for Zone Security personnel had to be build on the back slop of the perimeter wall, and heavy equipments are stored directly at the foot of the wall itself. The walls themselves had integrated bunkers, with heavy anti personnel auto cannons and anti-amour guns emplacements embedded into the outer face of the wall. On top of the wall, and spaced at regular intervals throughout the blue zone, air defence towers, with dual electromagnetic powered gattling cannons mounted on top of them. The railgun barrels of these anti air batteries are capable of accelerating projectiles to such speed that gave it ray-gun like performance at any practical combat range. Effectively turning the projectile based anti-air defense into a laser defense, capable of downing both aircraft and missiles.

Also mounted on the air defence towers are the upward projecting sonic repulsion field emitters. With the vast majority of earth's surface infested with tiberium to a dangerous level, the weather is unpredictable and very volatile, the danger of having airborne tiberium particles floating with an rouge ion storm into a bluezone warrants the precaution of completely sealing off the airspace with a gigantic sonic shield in case of ion storm warning. In addition to protecting against airborne tiberium particles, the sonic shield was also capable of warding off an aerial attack.

The bulk of the GDI front line troops are stationed outside of the massive perimeter walls, forming a protective buffering Zone of about 50 kilometers around the walls, these buffer zones are dotted with GDI bases, detention facilities and sensory outposts. In addition to housing GDI military facilities, the buffer zone is also home to a number of refugee camps, which according to W2N channel, are highly sought after destinations by yellow zone dwellers.

The rationale of stationing the bulk of troops outside the walls is to avoid contamination. As the frontline troops have frequent hazard zone deployment, there is a high danger that vehicles or equipments may be contaminated, for the nasty green crystals have the reputation of getting into the most unexpected places. In fact, access to the blue zones is so restricted that anyone leaving the walls with exception of air transfer to another blue zone is subject to several months of quarantine observation for any sign of infestation and people who had no previous registration of residence in the blue zones, even though not by written law, are strictly barred from entering. Effectively creating a hereditary citizenship and shutting off anyone not originally taken into the blue zones.

The latter rule, though unwritten, was an open secrete that everyone knows. It is understandably highly controversial, opposed by many human right activists, rallies were organized to show solidarity to our fellow humans. However, these efforts met with little enthusiasm from both GDI administration and most civilians. With the civilians fearing an influx of yellow zone refugees will drag down their living standards and the administration fearing influx of people with questionable allegiance.

Aside from pragmatic reasons for shutting out anyone not taken in when the blue zones were first created, there are yet more arguments, ranging from educated guesses to ridiculous ignorance, to keep yellow zone people out. These includes that tiberium might be contained in trace quantities below detection limit in yellow zone people and letting them in could lead to contamination or that people from yellow zones have their genetic information inevitable altered by tiberium and if letting them into the blue zones they might interbreed with 'clean' humans and pollute the human genetic pool.

Whatever the reasons are, it is fair to say that GDI is in effect running an apartheid system, driven by both real and imaginary fears.

The train continued it's course and we spot the pride of GDI afar, it's airforce, stationed in the immense and heavily guarded airfields. Hundreds of orca gunship, dozens of orca bombers and the immense orca dropships with their sleek and elegant hull, parked in perfect order along the landing platforms. Countless other support craft dotting the ground, it truly was an exciting look. No other power on earth could muster the necessary resource an technology to field an airfleet of this size and power. And the orca crafts themselves are a sight of beauty.

The airforce base was located inside the perimeter wall, to protect it's expefnsive contents from a surprise attack. However the base was sealed off by a secondary wall, as the aircrafts are frequenting yellow zone airspace, there is a danger they might become contaminated. All base personnel are subjected to the same quarantine protocol when entering blue zone proper.

As we are closing in on our destination, we spot a final picture of the might of GDI military, the harbor of B2-Zone. Docked are ten, immense, tri-hulled 'Pristine' class aircraft carriers. Each carrying about ninety orca gunship marine version, eight orca bombers and sixteen hammerhead multi-purpose assault helicopter. Large numbers of destroyers and support crafts are docked nearby. Their silver white hull gleaming in the sun, giving a impression of both strength and wealth. The whole picture would be a perfect harmonic one where it not the brownish seawater the ships swim in. Even at the blue zone docks, the ocean had lost it's former beauty. Tiberium spreads very quickly in aquatic environment. Destroying all carbon based life in it's way and cause unpredictable current that stirs up all kinds of debris from the ocean floor, often mixed with traces of contagious tiberium crystal fragments. The harbors of the blue zones, like the airbases, had separate walls to seal them off and containment teams, armed with portable sonic emitters and tiberium radiation detectors patrolling the docks. Utility ships constantly sonicating the waters, destroying possible microcrystals of the deadly green infestation.

Truly, the whole blue Zone is without exaggeration a self contained impregnable fortress. I simply cannot think of anyone or anything capable or foolhardy enough to even try to assault it directly or indirectly.

The train slows down and an automated EVA voice announced: "Tiberium Spike facility 16, boarding passengers, please stand in line".

"Alright guys!" I shouted "everyone out!", this is the destination of our visit today. The tiberium spikes are automated harvesting units，pumping chemicals deep into the ground and pumping out liquefied tiberium up and into connected refinery. Construction of tiberium spikes and refineries in the blue zones were controversial. However, GDI military lobby were insistent. Since tapping underground tiberium deposit and having the necessary processing facilities would allow the blue zone to hold out for an indefinite amount of time in the event of a siege. Most of the tiberium industry however is located in the buffer zone immediately outside the perimeter walls. And the inside refineries are only activated in event of emergency.

Our visit however was not the refinery, but a ground solidification process. Ever since GDI seismic stations detected tiberium veins spreading towards the undergrounds of blue Zones, precaution was immediately put into place. The goal was to build a shield facing downward. All known materials coming into contact with tiberium will slowly be transformed into tiberium overtime. However, crystals such as quartz had strong resistance to tiberium assimilation. And we are here to see how silicon sand is spread out deep underground and melted to form a solid quartz glass panel by on site laser heating. The Quartz panel should stop any tiberium fragments from penetrating into the surface soil of B2-zone and downward facing sonic emitters help to fend of larger tiberium crystal formations. The blue zones thus not only forms a fortress but quite a airtight bubble.

* * *

So that's chapter 2, I'm trying to give a relatively detailed picture of how the various Zones looks like and works before going for character development. Next chapter will explore the Rio slums then.


	4. Old Wounds

Old Wounds

Blue Zone B-2 Housing Unit 212 60th floor

The transparent elevator snaked up the immensely high, pencil like apartment block. And I felt a little dizzy looking down. All civilian housings in the blue zones are constructed likewise, intended on minimizing the ground used. The glassy and flimsy look of these buildings hid the strength and resilience of the ultra-hard composite materials used for their construction. For all buildings in the blue zones were primarily designed to withstand an assault, some apartments even had air defense towers on top of them, but taking comfort into consideration, as these buildings are now the permanent homes of many.

Finally, after a tiring day on the field trip I'm home. Surprisingly, the door locks in these ultramodern apartment blocks is still the old tried-n-true mechanical lock used in the early 21st century.

'Mom! Dad! I'm home,' I sank onto a plastic chair at our dinner table, on which stands the family's evening meal. Steamed 'rice' aka synthetic carbohydrate granules, tofu(artificial peptide and protein clot enriched with animal amino acids) soup with 'the greens' which are synthetic dietary fiber dyed with synthetic chlorophyll, a cheap imitation of vegetables and a few tablets of essential micronutrients.

This table full of plastic food, the toxic green stuff I have been experimenting on during my study, are now standing on my dinner table, all of this plastic food originates from the deadly infestation that is nurturing and killing us at the same time.

A plus though, our family was wealthy enough that the onions and garlic used for soup seasoning were of natural origin, in addition to the dessert fruits.

'Son, how was your day?' my father asked the rhetoric question with a sad tone while my mom let out an audible, worried sigh.

Living with your parents is pretty much the norm after TibWar 2, few people could afford their own flat in the Blue Zones. Pretty much everything and everyone was cramped together in tiny spaces. On the plus side, it did bring families closer together.

'Tiresome as ever', I retorted absentminded while starting to munch away without waiting for anyone to join. My table manners had never been known to be aristocratic.

My dad, now almost 70 and my mom 63 years old, looks like a pair of surreal middle aged dolls. With the world economy fueled by tiberium during and after the first tiberium war, research funding was virtually unlimited and tiberium itself possessed many amazing properties that could be harnessed. Many great leaps forward were made during an after TW2, the need for ever more powerful weapons and the need to cure ever more grievous wounds catalyzed a chain reaction of innovations in science and technology. Tiberium based nanomedicine allowed cellular repair at the molecular level and cybernetic implants are now so advanced that nearly all organs could be either partly or wholly replaced by artificial ones. My parents are now .strictly spoken .cyborgs. Their lungs, kidneys, liver and part of their brain had been replaced by cybernetic implants, The rest of their body cells had been little by little replaced by cultured stem cells. The fresh cells were injected into their aging tissues, replacing the old and dying cells so that the tissue as a whole maintains it's vitality allowing a abnormal live span of undetermined length.

However, the technology wasn't perfect, yet, and as a result people who had used such procedures repeatedly showed a slightly waxy appearance, making them look somewhat like living wax figures. Not a very pretty sight, but still better than that of a dying person.

These types of live extension and modification technology had once been highly controversial, violently opposed by many religious conservative groups. People who underwent such treatments were at times marked for death for defiling the sanctity of the human body. However, such opposition gradually dwindled after a string of scandals were uncovered where religious leaders secretly underwent life extension treatments while calling for holy wars against others who did the same.

I have heard that Nod extensively used such technologies to create super soldiers and they call it divination.

"Son!" My mom hold me in a firm hug, her eyes tearing up "I appeal to you as your mother! Reconsider your choice! I don't what this to become my only memory of you", she nearly cried as she hold up a old faded family portrait. A picture taken inbetween TibWar1 and TibWar2, before I was born, on the old photo were my parents, in their early 30th holding a baby, my brother, an older brother born long before I was born, someone that I had never known in person.

Our family originates from Brazil, or rather, what was once Brazil. My parents were careful to not bring a baby into a war torn world, they waited until well after the Brotherhood of Nod was defeated to have a child, to make sure that their child will grow up in a peaceful and prosperous world, something that was predicted after TibWar1, with Nod defeated, the world was to grow and prosper from the immense wealth brought by the then relatively new tiberium industry.

Both of my parents were academics, Shortly after the birth of their first child, both were invited as visiting professors at California University Ivrine of the then still functional United States. Pressed for time and energy, the newborn child was left in the care of my Grandmother in Sao Paulo.

The Brazilian government was officially a staunch supporter of GDI during the course of the First Tiberium War, however, severe social inequality meant that Nod, with it's vision of unity and brotherhood had an easy time attracting followers amongst the millions living in grinding poverty. Although news of the time refuse to acknowledge it, Nod had nearly uniform support in the favelas. And Rio de Janeiro, with it's many shanty towns, was a stronghold of Nod. GDI was in control of a few of the prosperous city centers but Nod was running the show as a whole.

Even after temple prime was destroyed by GDI's ion cannon and Kane pronounced dead, support for Nod amongst the slumdogs of Rio was high, with many die-hard Nod followers firmly believing Kane lives in death and some even claiming to converse regularly with him in their dreams. Such interviews posted on various tabloid magazines were dismissed as mindless ramble of drug addicts. Five years after TibWar1 Mom and Dad deemed the world a save and prosperous enough place to have a child.

As they were employed in the United States, it happened. Nod arose from the ashes, and proved itself to be frighteningly effective in rallying her supporters worldwide. The millions of desperately poor people in the Rio slums, who were even worse of after much of Rio was devastated during the TibWar1, were delighted that the vision of their messiah was not dead after all and the city turned into a stronghold for General Vega almost overnight. And before my parents could even decide what to do about their newborn baby in Sao Paolo, the word came, Sao Paulo was overrun by Nod forces launched from Rio, the GDI garrison there slaughtered and all contact to the city lost.

My parents were devastated on hearing this and my mother was send to a mental hospital for almost a year. All of the subsequent attempts to find out about what happened to Grandma and their baby proved to be fruitless. To this day, they are still wacked with guilt.

"Mom." I hugged here back and said in a smoothening voice, well as smooth as I managed to. "I promise I'll be fine, there is no real risk involved. I mean, I'm not to be deployed as combat personnel, I'm going there to help clean up tiberium. I have worked with tiberium since graduate school and can handle it safely. Besides, Nod is splintered and Rio is firmly under GDI control. So I cant see what could possibly go wrong".

My mother said nothing, just holding me, afraid that I would be lost forever like her last baby.

"Mom please, I promise I will look for him." I said in a stern voice.

That did the job, and with a loud sigh she said down next to me.

Honestly I don't know if I'm really going to make the effort of finding my older brother once being deployed as a containment engineer with GDI's reclamation task force. Since I never knew him I don't feel the type of attachment that my parents do and by all chances, he is long gone.

"Good luck sweetheart" She said as she pressed me a motherly kiss. "Promise me you return home save!" she said looking me in the eye.

"I promise!"

Our dinner proceeded in silence, me not wanting to steer anxiety in my parents and they too lost in their memories of their lost baby to talk to me.

Finished, I returned to my room, a cramped but cozy narrow 9 square meter walk-in closet style room, situated almost a hundred meters above the ground in this high rise apartment. There were only enough room for a single bed and a nightstand on which my laptop stands, a large GDI logo decorating it's back.

Turning on my laptop, I liked up with the public communcation channel of the GSS Philadelphia, the image of a middle aged man popped up.

"Greetings, how was your day?" My PhD supervisor Doctor Alphonse Giraud asked.

"It was educative" I blurted

Prof Giraud: "Hope you are ready for the challenge, tomorrow is the big day, it's going to be tough in the zones, did you managed to persuade your parents?"

Me: "Well, yeah ahem not really actually .when will you come down? I can't imagine me working in a yellow zone without your help".

Prof Giraud: "Oh, I'll meet you up in a few weeks, we still have a few things to discuss up there, take care until then."

Me: "I will, see you in Rio." I said as I turned off the video link.

Professor Doctor Alphonse Giraud was an experienced scientist in tiberium research and a former associate of Doctor Moebious. He had being researching containment and neutralization of tiberium and tiberium based lifeforms for many years including years of field research experience in red zones with their almost legendary dangers, where GDI reclamation personnel are frequently driven insane, many claming the gaint tiberium monoliths there were talking to them.

And it is an honor for me to have studied under his guidance and now working alongside. Being one of his more promising students, He recommended me as his aid on a new reclamation project initiated by GDI: To rid Rio de Janeiro of tiberium infestation and to restore peace and order to the City.

Right now, he is up on the space station Philadelphia attending a conference, discussing current research results and further plans and technology for fighting the infestation. Unfortunately, I'm not ranked high enough to participate, for I'd love to experience a space travel.

Rio de Janeiro was almost entirely destroyed during the second tiberium war, Nod, when holding the city, deliberately spread tiberium around it to fuel their war machinery, contained by woefully inadequate safety measures. In addition, hundreds of silos containing crudely processed liuqid tiberium were erected. These facilities were destroyed during the GDI counterattack and as a result large areas of the city became contaminated.

When GDI forces finally retook the city, it didn't expect the level of popular anger against them. With a high number of civilian deaths, their city literally in ruins and dangerously contaminated by the deadly infestation and fanned by Nod propaganda, the people of Rio turned anger to towards GDI, who were struggling to contain the tiberium infestation and restore order to the ruins of a once proud city. Peace keeping troopers were dispatched, humanitarian aids were brought in. However, the level of chaos in the city's wreckage and the attacks on GDI peacekeepers by lunatics, marauding gangs and die hard NOD remnants prevented any aid from being effectively distributed and GDI was forced to retreat from the ruins of Rio amidst mounting casualties and lack of progress, abandoning the people there to their fate.

Immediately after GDI's departure, the various factions in Rio turned onto each other, rampaging through the abandoned GDI and NOD bases, anything left behind was scavenged, the locals somehow managed to contain tiberium to an extend with abandoned equipments and set up crude tiberium processing facilities with questionable safety to support themselves.

What order and humanitarian support there was left with GDI, the story of Rio afterwards is unknown, but I shudder at the thought of what might had happened there. In recent years GDI discovered that the violence in what was left of Rio has decreased notably, probably having slaughtered each other, no one was left to keep up the killing.

GDI decided it was now time to salvage what can be salvaged, after all, Rio was one of the largest population centers in the yellow zones, and dispatched it's elite steel talons 502'st legion to pacify the warlords there. Having done that, it is now time for the regular troops and technicians to move in and reestablish some semblance of order and infrastructure.

A flash of light followed by a loud thunder interrupted my thoughts. A whole wall of my room served as the window, outside, the night sky shows the sign of a storm, thundering clouds gathering in the horizon, accompanied by torrential rain. Probably an ion storm originating from the Yellow Zones now covering the entire mid section of what was once the United States. It won't be long before Ion Storm warning is given and the upward facing sonic shield is activated.

I felt a sort of anxiety I never experienced before as I stared at the approaching thunderstorm.. I have lived my whole life in Blue Zone B-2, I have never left it's protective walls, who at times felt like prison wall, but now seems to give me a feeling of safety and warmth that cannot be described in words.

I have never left a Blue Zone before, not even visited another Blue Zone, despite it's cramped nature, GDI had very much managed to create an utopian world within it's walls.

With solid social security fueled by tiberium based economy, there were no such things as slums or poverty. With highly advanced medical technology, virtually all natural disease, including aging, was treatable and losing loved ones to old age was almost unheard of. And despite being a military government, GDI has rigorously enforced it's democratic charter, and political freedom was in many ways better than the nation states that originally created it.

Truth be spoken, there was nothing more a normal person could really wish for. Yet, it is mankind's nature to seek the thrill of danger and I had always felt a little trapped in this nest.

Now all is going to change, all of this is going to change for me, my warm home, my loving family, the safety of this walled paradise. I'm going to leave it for the first time in my live. Sure, I have watched a lot of documentaries, I have been briefed by GDI about my deployment. But none of these seems to give me a solid idea of what to expect now.

It is night now, but I continued to stare at the starless sky, the thunderstorm was now pouring it's cold, raging rain over B-2 Zone. The whole scene was of a surreal one, thousands of lights clouded by a dark sky and misty rain. What will await me, beyond that veil? How will life in the Yellow Zones truly be ..?

Remark:

Okay, I didn't managed to go to the action part now, but I'll turn up the heat for the next Chapter, which will be seen through the eyes of a new character.

Hope you enjoyed this till now.

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	5. Across the Ruins

Across The Ruins

I was running down the shore, naked, on a misty morning. Endless blue oceans to one side, lush, green forests on the other. The Island was still covered in the mist of the morning. The waterfalls whose roots in mountains covered by fog, gently poured their glistering, pristine flow. Like rivers from heaven, nurturing their children. My greyhound leading the way, we happily tried to outrun each other on the clean sand beach, dotted with colorful seashell washed ashore. I felt free, I felt happy, I felt I was in paradise.

I heard someone shouting my name, I turned and saw my home, a seaside resort like wooden house, standing near the shore, in front of a majestic forest. Wildlife popping up and disappearing in it's mystery filled depths like waves in the ocean. The picture was a beauty that goes beyond physics.

'Jose!' I heard someone shouting my name.

It must be time for breakfast, I clapped to my dog and we joyfully ran towards our home.

'_Jose!_' I heard an impatient shout 'You'll be late'

'_Jose!_' Another shout.

'_Jose!' Another shout, my world blured_.

"_Jose! Jose! Wake up dammit!_"

Rio de Janeiro, November 2032, Yellow Zone Y-5, Two years before Rio Incident

"_Ouch! Quit it!_" I grumbled as someone was clapping my cheeks and shutting my nose.

Opening my eyes proofed to be a mental struggle. The urge to stay in the world I had been just pulled from was strong.

The rude hands that awoke me forcibly opened my eyelashes. The morning sun light felt like magnesium flares in my sleep addled eyes.

"_Wake up hotshot! Boss gonna have our hides if we are late for the assembly_" My roommate spat as he tossed aside my blanket.

With great reluctance, I sat up. Before me, the room, nothing more than a shabby assembly of scrap wood, probably scavenged from some old furniture, and plastic films. There was a severe ion storm last night and now it was dark, damp and cold. I heard from someone that Rio used to be a pretty hot place all year round. However, tiberium infestation has rendered global climate totally unpredictable, one day, it might be scorching heat, the next day it could be freezing hail, with ice cubes as large as hand grenades falling on your head.

"_Why did you wake me up?_" I said with a serious, sad tone, sinking my head, staring at the floor that was the muddy ground itself, with the same color as my bare feet. I really didn't felt like being pulled back into this blasted world. I kept having the same dream many times now. I felt happiness, a feeling I haven't had any of already for a long time. Each time I struggled to stay in my dreams, each time I'm forcibly pulled back into reality.

How long has it been since the last time I felt anything that resembles the feelings I had on that ethereal misty Island? I don't know, no one was counting time here in the Zones. I think it was when I still had my greyhound. It didn't have a name, just as me. It didn't know where to go or what to do, just as me. We met up in the street and it followed me. We have been friends, true friends. Until it betrayed me, it died, from what I don't known, but it left, me, it's best friend behind.

I thought I forgot about it, I had never tried to build any attachment to anything or anyone afterward. I don't want to feel that despair of losing something again.

Now, somehow, my friend is calling me in my dreams, it hasn't forgotten me, from a place far from this…..

"_Get out of it dude!_" my roommate snapped while giving me another teasing slap. "_Boss ordered us to assemble, you don't want piss of Carlos_."

I jumped to my feet, scrambling to put on my cloths, which are actually a patchwork of many different cloths scavenged here and there, sewed together. You don't keep the 'father' of a 'family' waiting. Around me, in this shack made of plastic films and scrap wood, with a single light bulb that may once had been a carlight, dangling from the low ceiling, lived 20 kids.

Like the garbage from which this place is build, we too were scavenged from here and there. Few, if any of us knew our parents, or our name. I had been called by at least a few dozen different names depending what swarm of wanderlings I belonged to at the time. Around here, I'm usually called 'Jose'.

"_So why did Carlos call us all up so early_?" I asked the mate who woke me up. He seems to be in his late twenties. Doubling as a kind of caretaker and foreman to watch over and control the younger ones.

I have no idea how old he is, or how old I am. People say I'm probably about nine to fifteen, but it may well be younger, people in the Zones usually look older than they actually are. Their health and beauty drained away by the harsh, abuse filled life.

We don't know were we come from. The first thing I could remember was being told to carry stuff around for some bearded, dangerous looking man, beatings were frequent, so I ran away, surviving by joining the many bands mostly made up of the likes of me, wandering the ruins of this once vast city, scavenging for anything that could be used or traded.

"_Boss said the new GDI camp in the outskirts of this town is distributing food and supplies_" Our 'foreman' answered.

I: "_What do you mean distribute? We don't have enough wares to barter for anything._"

Foreman: "_Ever heard of humanitarian aid? Boss said they are giving it out for free!_"

"_You've got to be joking! No one is that crazy!_" I snorted as I opened the lock of a steel box chained to one of the posts of my bunk. Judged from it's shape, it had once been a ammunition box, containing what little belongings I had. I put my blanket in and pulled out a steel water bottle and an old grey fatigue, covered with stains and a pair of homemade sandals. I wrapped my feet in rags and pulled on the sandals, which was several numbers too large for me. I guess I'll grow into it, if I live that long.

With great care, I locked the box and slid it under the bunk, out of sight. You've got to watch your back in the Zones, anyone and I mean ANYONE is more than ready to rip you off left, right and center.

"_Seriously dude, I just talked with Carlos, he told me that at one time this dump was controlled by GDI who attempted to restore order but failed. They used to give out stuff for free, calling it humanitarian aid._" Foreman said. I call him foreman, but actually he is one of the less beastlike overseers I had worked under and actually the closest thing I have to a friend.

He found me searching through some ruined buildings for anything salvageable. I was living with another wandering scavenger group back then, but he convinced me to jump boat. Promising higher rations and told me that his clan, or 'familia' as the clans here are usually called, leader Carlos o'Rabula was a reasonable man, much more so than my current 'father'.

Switching your 'family' was a dangerous undertaking. No clan leader I have worked under would spare a deserter if he is caught. Having a big 'family' was to have power and having power equals survival in these blasted waste lands. And no leader in their right mind would tolerate any behavior that could weaken the clan. Leaders had to be strong around here, for here in the zones, weakness is death.

"_Now they are back here again, I've heard they have incredible amount of food and water and clean air in their turf man! I think they call their turf Blue Zones. I've even heard that they got medicines, incredible medicines man! They say that GDI people don't die of disease or age, and that if they lost a limp, they could grow a new one with something from their body, I think they call it some kind of stem cells, in some kind of facility and reattach it to you._" Foreman gloated with excitement as he told me these.

"_Well we don't die of age either do we?_" I joked with a bitter smile as I strapped on my belt, which is actually an extension cord I found in some burned out house, to prevent my oversized grey coat from looking like a sack. Yes, people don't die of old age in these ruins. They die of fights, with guns, knives and bare fists, of malnutrition, but most frequently of disease. A common cold can be deadly if you are weak from malnutrition and don't have any sort of medical care. Worse yet, if you had the bad luck of being infected with tiberium, likely from drinking poorly treated water or eating unsafe processed food as the norm is around here. You can expect to be chased out of town at gunpoint by everyone you encounter and die a slow, painful death in the waste lands around the ruined metropolis. Or worse, watching your flesh becomes mutated with tiberium and your mind slowly swept away from insanity.

"_Where you heard that from?_" I asked curiously. Is it real what he says? Those GDI people have ample food and water? Sound unimaginable to me. But that prospect was far too alluring to ignore. Food and water, that's pretty much all I care about. All the other gadgets the GDI people may have don't really concern me. Hunger and thirst had been two omnipresent specters haunting me for as long as I can remember.

Here in the Zones, aside from the hordes of scavengers that are us who would be better

Off dead than alive, nothing was alive. The ruins had been repeatedly stripped of anything useable after being inhabited for years by countless numbers of desperate refugees, fleeing the surround lands that are now nothing more than barren desert devoid of any life, a silent grave with raging winds, like ghostly whispers, as the only source of sound.

After the great war, people fled to the carcass of Rio, because here we had resource, ONE resource, tiberium refineries, the only thing that kept us here alive through all these years. I have heard that long time ago, two great wars had been fought between two major powers, GDI and NOD. And both eventually left Rio, leaving behind much of their equipments, clans fought hard over those equipments. They allow those deadly crystals scattered throughout the wastelands near the city to be converted into food and other necessities.

Powerful clans now control those equipments, hiring people to work in their tiberium processing plants and join their private armies. Other powerful clans then try to size the processing equipments from those that control it, and the cycle continues. Their fights leave a lot of new stuff, ranging from supplies to weapons, scattered all over the remains of the city. And those left behinds is what keeps the likes of me alive. The city's ruins, despite being repeatedly looted of anything useful, kept supplying scavengers with fresh necessities.

Those tiberium refining equipments are now long past their service life, and probably operated by people who have little idea how to operate them. As a result, food and water produced by those outdated refiners are dangerously unsafe. It is not uncommon to hear someone scream in terror on the dinner table, horrified to find a shard faintly fluorescent green crystal in his meal.

"_Carlos told me this morning! He ordered all of us to assemble early today so we can get a large catch of those handouts!_" Foreman was really excited with joy as he spoke "_You know! If Carlos allows it, I might ask for some temporary work with that GDI clan_" Then he went silent, realizing he had spoken too much, people hiring out as temporary workers for other clans was not uncommon, but the fact that this GDI seems to be so much superior to anything we had ever known might be interpreted as trying to jump boat if he wants to work for them.

"_Well get in shape buddy, we'll be going in shortly_" He tried to change the subject.

Wrapping my unwashed feet in rags and putting on the homemade sandals, I exit our quarters.

Our clan was situated in what was probably a former parking lot. Derelict cars dotted the weathered pavement, their innards and windshields long gone. Only the rusty, hollow frames, like the skeletal remains of a past life, stood there to tell the tragic tale of a forgotten past. A few of them, in a somewhat less sorry state, had been converted into shelters, covered in plastic and scrap metal films, they are the homes of the middle ranked of our clan, like foreman.

Numerous shacks made of scrape wood like the ones I had been living in dotted the courtyard, being the homes of low ranked beings like me.

The walls of this former car park had been greatly reinforced, a high ramps of stamped earth, covered with old tires and long, sharpened wooden stakes pointing outward in dense formation like the spikes of a headdog. The tires were there so that they could be dosed in fuel and set alight, forming a flame barrier if the need arise. Wooden watch towers, manned by Carlos's gunman stood at regular interval. Here in the Zones, one had to be careful. Clans that ran out of supplies, or people just looking for a fight could attempt a raid any moment.

I made my way to the water tank to get my morning rations, a long line had already formed at the water tank, actually an abandoned rusty sprinkler truck with the wheels missing. Foreman and his comrades, the mid ranks, watching intensely at the line, discipline inside a clan was strictly enforced. Chaos amongst oneself quickly turns into violent fights, disintegrating the clan and jeopardizing everyone's survival.

That is not however to say that the people here have high social moral. Life here in the Zones does funny things to people's minds. A lot people here have really wild mood swings. One trivial joyful thing, maybe laughing over something together and you'll find a band of youngsters swearing blood loyalty to another. A minute later they might be tearing each other to pieces, literally, over some minute disagreements, like how the weather is.

As my turn to fetch the morning rations came, I could feel the intense gaze of the boy manning the outlet and those behind me. I felt some of them are seezing with anger, some with contempt for no apparent reason. Only few seem to have the eyes of a sane person. I guess it is this very life that breeds insanity and delusional believes out of even slight personality problem.

The boy in manning the tanker outlet filled my semi-mint condition steel bottle and gave me my rations, with as little force as necessary to keep the overseers from intervening, all the while giving me the type glare a condemned would give to a warden. I must say though that every one was getting the same treatment, I wasn't singled out.

Our morning rations one and a half liter of drinking water, one cup of water for cleaning and one plastic bag of 'all-in-one' stew. Without toothbrush, I had to clean my teeth, which felt really sticky, with a rag and rinse it the one lousy cup of brine water. The all-in-one stew was a thick, sticky soup that was supposed to contain all nutrients needed. Like other stuffs around here, they are produced from those tiberium refiners long past retirement age. Every time you take your meal, better pray it wasn't contaminated with life tiberium that somehow slipped through the processing step. High food safety standards are not something the Yellow Zones are known for.

I almost choked as I tried to flush down the sticky junk with water. Eating the same thing each and every day for one's entire life just makes it taste like wax. I couldn't complain however, everyone here had the same, even powerful clan leaders. The scavenged and crudely maintained tiberium processors simply are not sophisticated enough to shit out anything else, and there simply was nothing left to eat around here. Not even rats, even they had been driving to extinction by ravenous hordes of hungry refugees fleeing the expanding infestation.

Nothing was left for food, except other humans!

Cannibalism is rampant here in the Zones! Aside from processed tiberium, other human beings are the only edible thing left. Aside from giving a change of taste of what you eat, eating a healthy human was a way to ensure you don't have tiberium contamination in your food.

There are clans out there that actually survives by preying on people, literally. I myself have been engaged in cannibalism several times, slicing and chewing up the remains of our enemies. I don't feel bad about it in any way. Such is the life I had always known. In fact, it is now customary for belligerent parties threatening to have the other side ON their dinner table.

"_Alright! Everybody Assemble!_", a shout was heard from a three story building, probably the former administration office of this parking lot. It's outside horribly burned and riddled with shrapnel scars from the great war that devastated this city. All windows were boarded up and reinforced with sand bags. Gunmen, in makeshift bunkers, build from old tires and rusty tin cans kept watch on it's roof.

This was Carlos's lair, he and his close associates live in it's relative safety. I had never been able to set foot in it. Only people who had been in his clan for a long time and demonstrated loyalty and swore an oath of fealty were taken into his inner circle.

I have no idea how much better they have it in there, I counted at least 40 people living in that building. I guess it's not too much better than out here in the lot, but it should be safer than out there, no doubt.

The hundred-fifty or so members of his clan, mostly low ranking rags like me as the majority of his more trusted gunmen are on guard duty, lined up to listen what was on.

Gun shots could be heard from the distance, we didn't care. Around here, sounds of guns fire are as normal to us as the sound of breathing. Judged from the sparseness of the shots, it's either people trying out their guns or lunatics randomly shooting at passer-bys.

"_As you may already have heard, GDI is willing to hand out a few gifts to us scumbags._" Carlos spoke as he walked to inspect our line. His words filled with bitter sarcasm. Which was odd, I knew him to be found of sarcasm but I never detected bitterness in his scolding before.

"_I know that some of you are thinking of jumping boat right now!_" He spoke in an icy tone, I could sense foreman behind me tense up. Afraid of what he said earlier.

"_But let me assure you all it won't work!_" He turned his face, leathery and wrinkled from the long years he had be living through this hellish life, towards me. A wicked smile, more like a spasm, etched on his lifeless visage. The type of wicked smile he would give to someone he's gonna shoot. His shoulder length gray hair gave his head the look of a long dead man rather than someone alive. His gaze made my legs feel weak, I don't know what to expect next, is he gonna eat me for dinner to set an example? Like he did with the boy I knew before? But I didn't say or do anything? What will happen next?

I almost breathed out a loud sigh of relief when he turned to address the wider audience, His eyes sank, as if he had trouble to say something, as if he was sad? Carlos being sad? That sounds almost ridiculous to me.

As if reading our thoughts, "_And you may wonder why I look downtrodden today, not the usual Carlos o'Rabula you know and hate? Hm?_" He turned and walked past me, and then stopped.

"_Do you people know what this is?_" he pointed towards something in our backs.

We all turned and saw he pointed towards an old high-rise building in the distance. It might have once been gorgeous, but now it is nothing more than an empty shell, like a tombstone of some long dead world. Only one side of it's four walls remained. One could see the sky through the remaining window frames, like the empty eye sockets of a skull, on the remaining facade.

"_This is what remains of Cutpua, once one of the most luxurious hotels in this town._" His voice filled with sadness. "_many years ago__, before the two great wars that devastated this place, I once had been the chief manager there_." Carlos said.

I had no idea what he was talking about, what a 'hotal' or 'manger' is, but I know he was not happy.

"_I suppose none of you is old enough to know the old day, days where most people don't have to worry about being shot every waking minute!"_

That got my attention. Carlos is an old man by any standard, a tall but shriveled man who walks with a cane and had the voice of a cracking spine. I had only known him to be a shrewd old man, but never knew anything about his live. I had assumed that everyone here had the same story like me, that is…none. "

"_A long time ago, before the curse of tiberium had been cast onto this world, these ruins here around you were alive. And on that part of the town"_ He pointed again toward the rows of tall ruins near the sea. "_Live of the people there was very much like the GDI people you have been hearing about. We had ample food and water, living spaces were clean and luxurious. And there was something probably none of you here had experienced before, safety. No one was worried about getting their heads blown off when taking a step out of shelter. You were born on this side of the town, you can pretty much count on getting old in a comfortable manner." _Clarlos talked in a tone I had never heard from him before. Not the slimy sarcasm we are used to, but in a calm and soft voice. I was most taken aback by this. That old crook could be reasonable? That's just unbelievable.

"_But on that side of the town…" _He continued as he pointed towards his backside. On the slopes of the tall mountains, devoid of any sign of life, we saw a dense formation of ruined buildings, which in most cases only the base of the building remained. But even so, from the few ones that still had a wall left, we could see that those buildings were of substantially lower quality and much higher density than the buildings near the Sea. "_Things were a whole lot different. People lived in similar ways we do now, with what few hopes people had crushed by reality." _

He paused for a moment and waited for our reaction. Apparently satisfied by the surprise and curiosity plastered on our faces, he continued. "_I myself had the luck to be born in the sunny side of the town._ _And for a long time, how life in the favelas was has been an obscure image for me._ _But I grew up, and for much of my career as a manger of the Cutpua Hotel. I tried to help some of the employees who had the misfortune to be spawned in those 'angle towns' to get a promotion, to escape the slums." _He paused for a moment to catch his breath, a lengthy speech was strenuous for his failing health "_But virtually all, nay, all my attempts failed! They came in as cleaners and maids and they retire as cleaners and maids. There simply wasn't any chance. When there was an opening in the upper echelon, they were quickly filled by someone with the proper merit and those with the qualifications are those who were born into families that could afford to get those qualifications!" _He almost shouted out the these words.

"_You were all born trash and you'll all die garbage!"_ This time he was screaming at the top of his lungs and to our uttermost astonishment his eyes were filled with tears! Audible gasps of surprise are heard from the crowd and no one was sure of what to do. Bitterness filled his raspy voice, the type of anger at disappointments one would have after lots of trials all ending in failure.

If hell could freeze over, then it just happened. Of all bizarre things on earth, this is the least I would. For as long as I knew Carlos, he was a cold and emotionally distant man. Never in my wildest dreams would I have imagined this scene. I wouldn't expect it from anyone here in the Zones, especially not from him.

"_And as far as I see it, things are the same now as they were back then. GDI's precious development programs wont be of any use to any of you, if they make any progress, the progress will be reaped by any already born into what powers are close to them, they will have more than enough people to fit into whatever new habitat they'll carve out of this place. Believe me, for I have seen this way too often." _He ended his speech exhausted. As strange as it may sound, I believed him, trust is not something I have much of but I believed what he said. And I felt something I never did before, I felt sympathy for this old tyrant. It seems that all this years his iron fisted rule was simply means to survive. He might have once been a compassionate man, shaped into a monster by the hell that is these lands. As to what I'm expecting from these GDI clan, I don't really care, as long as I can fill my stomach I'm satisfied.

We returned to our huts and started gearing up after his speech, an wave of clanking noises could be heard as everyone packed what weapons they had. Most only had machetes and other edged weapons. Firearms are hard to come by here in the ruins, ammunition even more so. What firearms there are were mostly pieced together from parts scavenged here and there. Needless to say reliability is not what these patchwork guns are known for. Occasionally, we would find functional guns left in the wake of a firefight between various clans. Only those very powerful clans that control the tiberium refiners left behind by GDI and NOD could still produce their own weapons and they trade them to other clans for extraordinary prices.

Here across the ruins, everyone owns their weapons, not the clan. Around here, without a weapon, your grave was open. Of this, everyone was keenly aware and no one, not even the insane would relinquish their arms. Not under any circumstance. As uneducated as people there are, everyone knew how to fight, albeit not exactly in an organized manner.

I picked up my machete wrapped in canvas. It is the only weapon I had that was still functional and unlike all my other stuff, it was kept in excellent shape. I would probably fetch a month's ration if it were traded.

The few derelict guns in my storage box is probably gonna explode in my face if I were to shoot them. I had no idea what brand they were, for they seem to contain parts from of ten or more different types of guns.

Foreman's bunk was next to mine, the excitement he had this morning are mostly gone now. I guess Carlos's speech did a dent on his confidence in jumping boat. As to me, well, I don't really think that much, as long as I get something between my teeth, I'm satisfied.

Having packed our weapons, we once again gathered in the courtyard and started boarding our transports, rusty pickups made I don't know how many years ago, or what brand. Their windshields long gone and replaced with all sorts of hillbilly armor. I eyed our 'army', a shabby assembly of malnourished sobs armed with a variety of improvised weapons. Only Carlos personal guards seems to have somewhat decent gear, his four bodyguards were armed with M16MKII's, the small arm of choice during the last great war that devastated this city, probably purchased from Pablo o Impiedoso, the unofficial 'governor' of these ruins. Pablo was a former NOD commander and currently controls the largest clan around here. He self styled himself to be the successor of the legendary prophet Kane, former leader of NOD who was killed in the great war and declared that by decree of heaven, he rules these lands. But in practice he exerted only moderate control over the other clans, at most.

The M16MKII's represents a significant upgrade from the earlier models. Replacing the controversial direct impingement action with the much more reliable gas piston design with adjustable stroke length, and the traditional 5.56 millimeter cartridge with a novel hypervelocity subcaliber flechette round with polymer instead of metal casing. The dart projectiles of these weapons penetrates walls and even light armored vehicles. Yes, despite being illiterates, everyone here knew a lot about weapons.

I took a seat in on the back one of the pickups, or 'technical' as they were also known as. Carlos and his guards got into a van that was in a somewhat better shape. It seems to have been build as an armored transport but additional steel plates had been welded onto it, giving it a clumsy but sturdy look. Foreman told me that this it was a money transporter of the bank of Rio as the writings indicates, he was one of the few in our clan who could read a little.

The aging engine of our technicals chocked to life in a string of agonizing thumping sounds as they spat out black smoke. I felt nervous, we didn't expect to get into trouble with GDI. But it was a half an hour drive to the GDI aid station and traveling anywhere in the Zones was of EXTREME danger. Randomly shooting at passer-byes seems to be some kind of sport around here.

Foreman noticed my nervousness, "_Don't worry buddy. I'll look out for you._" He clapped reassuringly on my shoulder.

"_Thanks man, by the way. We've been together for a long time now and I don't even know your name._" I inquired. trying to get my mind off the dangers of the road.

"_Oh, just call me Rawne_" he answered.

Author's Note:

I planned to have a fight scene in here but had to divide this Chapter into two, trying to make the Characters 3dimensional proved to be quite a challenge. As imagining what people would think and do in the hellish yellow zones wasn't quite as easy as I thought.

I tried to emphasis two characteristics in the Zone Dwellers I think should be realistic, one is ignorance, being illiterate, with all news network broken down cuts you off from the rest of the world. Your world is what you see around your immediate surroundings, which isn't much. The second is apathy, with extreme resource shortage and a lot of people resorting to extreme measures to survive,

I took the Zone numbering from CnCWiki, in there, Blue Zone B-2 is located California and Rio de Janeiro was in Y-5.

As you should be able to see, during its war of reunification NOD has to start with a ragtag army. I'd say it wont stand a chance of driving GDI out, without the intervention of legion. I'll play greatly on legion's powers in the coming chapters.


	6. Rio Convergence

_Author's Note: In order to stick more closely to canon storyline, I changed the doctoral advisor of the Narrator from Zone B-2 to Doctor Alphonse Giraud, the one Jack Granger wanted to consult when Director Boyle ordered to fry temple prime._

_In response to review suggestion, I will no longer write one-shots, I noticed too that an interwoven storyline would be more exciting. So from now on, the first person narrators will be the main characters, along with a few familiar names. Additionally due to inquiries by more than one person about whom the brother of the narrator (Adhmar Reyes) from Zone B-2 is, well take a guess, I'll drop hints in the coming chapters._

_So enjoy, and review!_

_From the journal of junior technical advisor Adhmar Reyes ID:623478, GDI reclamation taskforce 209_

Blue Zone B-2, Entrance to Edwards Airbase

30 November 2032

A crowd has already formed at the entrance to Edwards Airbase, the port of departure for the new batch of volunteers from B-2 for GDI frontline force gather here awaiting departure to Yellow Zone Y-5.

We waited before the enormous concrete walls that separate the airbase from blue zone proper. A tunnel formed the entrance to the airbase. Beyond that tunnel, inside the secondary containment wall, despite the fact that the airbase was still situated inside 600 meter high perimeter wall, one was officially in the yellow zones.

Friends and families came to see the off the departure, we form the second batch of reinforcements for GDI's reclamation taskforce 209, nicknamed 'Vigorous Hawk', responsible for rebuilding Rio de Janeiro into a utopian blue zone, to turn Zone Y-5 into a new B-5. Most were fresh recruits, but there was not shortage of seasoned vetrans either. GDI's advanced medical technology has made age a negligible factor for military service.

The 209 taskforce is divided into three branches, the military peacekeepers, responsible for security of both GDI personnel and zone civilians, the engineer corps, including science division, responsible for tiberium containment and neutralization as well as rebuilding infrastructure. The science division of the engineer corps is responsible for drawing up tiberium containment plans and oversee the cleanup process. It is also responsible for detecting and analyzing any mutations in tiberium properties. The green crystals have the nasty property of changing their sensitivity to different containment methods every so often.

The last branch is the social engineering division, responsible for rebuilding a functional, democratic society in the badlands. It also directs the overall operation, in accordance with GDI's fundamental principle of civilian oversight.

For the operation in Rio de Janeiro, the GDI peacekeepers will be headed by colonel Jack Granger, decorated veteran of the second tiberium war and science division will be headed by chief tiberium scientist Doctor Alphonse Giraud, my doctoral advisor. I feel proud to be had been his student during my studies and I'm quite surprised that he placed me in the position of junior science advisor, meaning I would have to draw up plans for some of the cleanup operations, especially if we encounter mutated tiberium, or worse, tiberium lifeforms.

I don't know if I'm up for this. I don't have any field experience. I haven't even seen an actual tiberium field with my own eyes yet, only worked with small sized crystals and mutated microorganisms before. Doctor Giraud must really have supreme confidence in me to place me as a junior science advisor, or, he simply had no one better. I could only pray that I don't screw up somehow.

The big names GDI had placed into this operation just tells how important our mission was. Understandable, consider the number of people still living in the ruins of Rio.

The head of social engineering corps and operational director will be Redmond Boyle. He is the recently retired vice CEO of Morgan Industries, a leading financier for GDI since it's creation in the early 90's and now part of GDI's military industrial complex.

Morgan Industries was originally a diamond trading cooperation in Nigeria. After tiberium was discovered, it quickly expanded it's operations into the rapidly developing tiberium industry, becoming a leading supplier of tiberium harvesting and processing equipments. Mister Boyle was credited for playing an instrumental role in reestablishing the shattered tiberium economy after Tib-War2. Still, for all the merit this man has in developing GDI's economy, I do doubt the wisdom to place a business mogul in charge of social engineering.

Ever since the nation states broke down one after the other at the end of Tib-War2, GDI has incooperated almost all major cooperation into a single entity, headed by the finance council, with all the companies having mere token existence.

Somewhat unorthodox for a democratic quasi-state to run planned economy, but the thing is, industrial automation is now so advanced that humans are rarely needed for any production task. So there is no inefficiency due to lazy workers and with tiberium as raw material, with exception of natural product industry, productivity excess is so high that inefficiency wont be felt unless it's monumentally high, it's hard to sell something if everyone is wallowing in excess anyways. Instead of working in factories, humans are employed in service sector or research industry. Most frequently however, in the one thing, and probably the only thing, they are good at, war.

The last bigshot in this operation is captain Diedrienna Godwinson. Commander of the steel talons 502'st legion, GDI's death squad, appropriately nicknamed 'Screaming Skulls'.

The steel talons are not there to protect anyone but rather to take out troublesome warlords. Since it's creation by right wing conservatives in the GDI supreme council, equivalent to the parliament of a nation state, the steel talons had been a semi-independent branch of the GDI military. Serving as GDI's 'fire brigade', leading attacks onto heavily fortified NOD positions and anything where heavy casualties are expected. Membership required strict examinations and training and value indoctration is different from the rest of GDI military. I don't known exactly what values are instilled in the steel talon operatives, but I'm sure they are rather flamboyant. They are without exaggeration, GDI's storm troopers.

Captain Diedrienna was an infamous figure during the second tiberium war, know for both fanatical courage and determination as well as rash decisions and explosive temper. She was promoted several times to the rank of colonel for her accomplishments and demoted several times to sergeant for suspicion of war crimes as well as insubordination. It was rumored that on her orders, the steel talons on numerous occasions mass executed prisoners of war and civilians suspected to be NOD's collaborators despite the fact that, in accordance with United Nations moral values from which the GDI charter was created, capital punishment was illegal under GDI jurisdiction and atrocities like the ones committed by Diedrienna were punishable by expulsion from GDI controlled territories. Rest assured, people fear been thrown out into the badlands, probably more than death.

Standing in my gray-green GDI uniform, I felt proud to be part of the team, our cause was just! We will be doing our best to pull the people in that hellhole out into a better life. I could sense the same feeling in my parent's eyes, despite the anxiety plastered onto their faces.

'G_ood luck son! Return to me save!_' Mom gave me a final hug before the line moved towards the railcars carrying us to the orca transports.

_Legion Memory Entry : 0001011010010010001110100001 _

_Access requested by: Lohan Rawne, aliases: Hero of the Brotherhood, Legendary Insurgent._

_Location: THE PROMISED LAND._

_Status of Elemental Phase Reconstruction Beam to Other Planes of Existence: ALL CONNECTIONS PERMANENTLY TERMINATED_

_Current Time: f-prime[lim(t-0)]_

_Concerning: Simulated Quantum State Reconstruction of Causal Chain before Ascension. _

_Access Purpose I: Review of Events Permitting Ascension_

_Access Purpose II: Memorial Dedicated to Adopted Son_

_Data Request I: Neurological Survey of Deceased Believers._

_Data Request II: Analysis of Causal Events_

_Subject ID: N/A – subject has no definitive name - aliases: Carlos, Miguel, Fidel,….. JOSE._

_Relative Time Imitated: 8:15 – 24:00., November 2032., Plane: 00110e-10110., Planet: 100010101e-1011., Location: Rio de Janeiro, Yellow Zone Y-5._

_Legion Response Status: ACCESS GRANTED_

_*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-Legion Neurological Memory Simulation*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-_

Our fleet of technicals sped through the ruined city. In the distance, wherever I looked, the lifeless remains of the weathered buildings mockingly looked back. Only the occasional columns of smoke from the encampments of various clans indicate that there was still life.

I kept my head low, trying to stay behind the steel plates welded onto the sides of our pickups, In case someone decides to draw beads at us.

We were taking the ruined road around the city outskirts, trying to avoid the maze like remains of Rio where god knows what might be laying in ambush, in addition to the mud formed from last night's ion-storm mixed with feces and other excrement into some kind of pie with blasphemous smell.

The weathered highway was dotted with craters and wrecked vehicle remains that could send a speeding car toppling. Despite this, we were driving as fast as our aging technicals could manage, spending time here in the badlands is simply too dangerous.

Far in the distance on mount Corcovado, I could see the silhouette of Cristo Redentor, a stature of Christ, the symbol of Rio de Janeiro when it still resembled a city. Only on one occasion did I manage to get close to the statue itself, and it was a sobering sight. The white limestone was stained gray and black from the severe weathering effect the toxic rain has. The left arm had been severed, probably by an ion-storm lightning, and fell to the foot of the hill. The face of the statue had two long black stains running from it's eyes caused by the toxic rain and it looked as if the saint was crying. Understandable, after the tiberium cancer has spread to these parts, rather than following his teachings for compassion and work together to fight the infestation, the people used this image of the lord as some kind of dumping ground for their guilty conscience. Warlords would come and confess to the stature their unspeakable deeds so that they may be 'purified from their sins' and so be free to do it again tomorrow. In fact at the foot of the stature was an assembly of all sorts of occult stuff, blood sacrifices, amulets….etc. In their desperation, the people created a whole pantheon of deities and believes, with most of these new cults worshipping rather blood thirsty idols.

The statue is no longer accessible, word was that the steps leading to the mountain top show signs of tiberium infestation, I guess the old gods finally gave up on us.

'_Jose_' I felt a hand clapping my shoulder, Rawne was holding his water bottle to me, knowing I felt thirsty. The water rations are just enough to keep one from dehydrating. Water is extremely difficult to treat for tiberium microcrystal contamination and clean water is used as a type of currency here in the Zones, much like the gold standard I heard were used in the past.

'_I…I…_' I mumbled, I'm thirsty, but so is he. I don't want to take his rations, I don't want him to die before me. I guess the same case goes for him. Here in the Zones, having a friend is a type of relieve that cannot be described in words. The though of losing such a person scares me much more than death. I had that breakdown already before when I lost my dog, I'm not going to let that happen again.

'_Jose, I still have more saved up._" Rawne reassure me, I know he was trying to get me to drink, It was hard to reject something you needed badly, but I couldn't live with the feeling I stole something from him. So I took a small sip, just enough to silence his pushing.

'_You know Rawne, I've though about what you said earlier this morning, maybe there is hope, maybe this place can become bette_r.' I said to struck a conversation, the truth is, I didn't though of anything since this morning except how to snatch a few more crumbs from that enigmatic GDI without getting my head blown off by some psycho.

He didn't say anything, but smiled at my encouragement. For a moment, I felt happy that I managed to make someone happy, a small but real accomplishments around here.

The rest of the journey occurred in silence, save for the wolf like howling winds that perpetuated these waste lands. The other four people in the back of our technical, expressionless and emotionless like living corpses, stared listlessly at Rawne and me, obviously surprised and probably envious of my extra water and the smile on Rawne's face. Even a smile has become a exotic product in the yellow zones. People here don't trust each other, they cannot. Everyone here grew up in an atmosphere of betrayal and intimidation. True friendship or love is as rare as a sky that rains clean water.

The sudden cracking of the aging GDI model 2019 field radio, probably scavenged from the wreck of a TITAN walker, awoke us from our mental hibernation, we have arrived. I stood up and looked forward, the sight made my jaw drop….

_*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*- Legion Causal Events Reconstruction *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-_

_Simulated Relative Time: 9:15 _

_Location: Sugarloaf Mountain, Rio de Janeiro, Yellow Zone Y-5_

Standing on the factory new Predator tank, lieutenant Alexander Karrde couldn't quite swallow what he saw, before him was the assembly of probably all who were still alive in Rio, a gigantic mob of increasingly violent people dressed in patchwork cloths that emphasizes both poverty and bad tastes. The whole of Rio must have come to the food distribution point after hearing GDI's announcement.

Karrde cursed reclamation command under his breath, how were they supposed to manage the million strong mob with only a few thousand peacekeepers. The word amongst the ranks was that director Boyle ordered immediate campaign to win over hearts and minds the moment GDI set camp, ignoring strong protests from Colonel Granger who insisted they must first determine what was going on around here.

And here they are, at the foot of one of Rio's landmarks, 25 kilometers away from GDI main base. The peacekeepers have set up a forward camp with a perimeter of barbed wires and armored vehicles, the idea was to let the mass run through the GDI aid station in a single line while the GDI soldiers would hand out rations, like a conveyer belt. Nice idea! The only problem is, the mob doesn't seem to understand what keeping a line is, regardless what language the instructions were blown from the megaphones, everyone was just screaming and shoving along the phalanx of GDI soldiers forming the aid distribution channel. The mob was getting increasingly impatient at the speed the supplies were handed out and was trying to push their way through the GDI lines to the supply trucks.

'_Stay back! Stay back!_' Karrder heard the nervous shouts of his men at the perimeter, armed with riot shields and stun batons, trying to keep the swarm like mob, charged with maddening frenzy, from detonating. All his men were fully encased in brand new battle armor, the GDI model 2031 personal protection system, the newest and best personal body armor/environmental suit GDI could field. It is essentially a lightweight spacesuit covered from head to toe in protective polymer-ceramic composite plates. Air thigh full body environmental protection became an unfortunate necessity at eve of Tibwar2. Tiberium infestation became so severe that gas masks alone was no longer sufficient against deadly airborne tiberium micro-particles being throwing into the atmosphere during ion storms. The environment suits were equipped with highly advanced air filters and tiberium radiation shielding, offering good protection against moderate levels of tiberium exposure, virtual immunity against conventional chemical weapons but only very limited protection against tiberium in gaseous form.

Another important feature of the environmental suit is the temperature and body moisture control module, via a set of ultra-lightweight water pipe cooled/warmed by a micro-heat exchanger the suit can adopt it's temperature to quickly compensate for either overheating from running or under cooling. Body moistures are removed via the inner capillary fabric. These 'luxury' features proved to be extremely popular with the troopers, even more so than it's protective properties, for it is discomfort caused by heat and moisture that is often the most persistent enemy. The outer rigid small arms protection plates provided practical immunity against antique 20th century small arm projectiles below caliber 12.7x108mm at any angle. The frontal plates were capable of sustaining at least one direct hit from the hypervelocity flechette round fired by the M16MKII, used by both GDI and NOD during Tibwar2. In other words, his men were almost immune to whatever the mob could throw at them. But then again, if the million strong mob truly descended, they would be capable of tearing the few thousand GDI soldiers apart with their bare hands.

These new body armors/environmental suits are very expensive, each full kit costing half a million GDI credits, where the monthly paycheck for a GDI private was less than one thousand credits. It was only through Redmond Boyle's unrelenting persuasions of the GDI supreme council and his connections with the military industrial complex that every soldier in the Rio reclamation project had been equipped with these new life-saviors. His efforts to provide the peacekeepers with the finest equipments money can buy earned him a lot respect amongst the troops and effectively silenced critics of his lack of experience in military matters. '_To say he doesn't care about his men would be a lie, as big a lie as one would say he is a competent military strategist.' _Karrder thought.

'_Lieutenant!_' A private, probably just old enough to enter service judged by his voice came running '_Sergeant Jim at the perimeter reports sightings of armed men!' _Despite his face covered behind the respirator mask with integrated aiming optics, Karrder could see the fear and apprehension on the young soldier's face. The private was holding the brand new GD-2 assault rifle, although it's compact size would rank it as a submachine gun or carbine by 20th century standards. The GD-2 was the successor of the failed GD-1 rifle meant to replace the aging M16MKII, only introduced in February this year the GD-2 was an instant hit with the troops. Renowned for it's punch and firepower. The GD-2 rifle fired 4.7x23mm high explosive shells instead of solid projectiles, the advance in medical science meant that just punching a hole through your enemy may not be enough to permanently disable him. The small size of the cartridge is deceptive of it's true power, tiberium engineering allowed the synthesis of explosives and propellants with much higher energy density than the ones used in the 20th century, like cordite or amatol. One hit from the GD-2 was usually capable of completely blowing off an unarmored limp. Additionally，the GD-2 had a 30mm under barrel pump-action grenade launcher for added firepower. In fact the GD-2 had a stunning visual similarity to weapons shown in an old 20th century movie Karrder saw as a kid.

'_Damit!' _Karrder spat, this was not going well, now it was only a question of when this powder keg explodes. Colonel Granger gave strict orders to not return fire unless absolutely necessary and judged by the way things goes, that necessity will arrive any moment now. GDI had threatened in their announcement with leaving if weapons were sighted and actually, it was a small miracle that the mob needed entire 10 minutes to get agitated enough to draw their concealed weapons. Their presence here must really have impressed the locals despite everything.

'_Tell the sergeant to ready for retreat!_'. He reluctantly gave the order, if they wanted to avoid bloodshed, this was the only way. But that way has it's own problems, if they retreat with the supplies the mob might pursue them and if they leave the supplies behind, the mob would slaughter itself over the supplies. Making a quick plan, Karrder decided they will gradually dump the cargo from the trucks as they retreat. The crowd will still fight amongst themselves for the supplies but at least this way, the chance of a crowd disaster in which everyone tries to get to a single point is reduced.

'_Order the tanks to fire up!_' Karrder signaled for the 30 or so predator tanks to roar their engines and turn their turrets. He remembered Colonel Granger's frown when he requested heavy armor for this mission, why bring tanks to a humanitarian mission. Well he brought them here for only one purpose, intimidation. With 55 tones, the size of a farmhouse and engine roars as loud as rock concerts, the predators indeed looked and sounded like wild beasts capable of unleashing terrible fury.

His orders had the desired effect, the screeching mob calmed down somewhat at the sight of the steel beasts coming alive. Many stood with their jaws dropping, probably having never seen a working vehicle larger than a pickup in their entire life.

'_Great! Now at least they had won enough time for an orderly retreat._' Karrder thought, he knew that the mob won't stay stunned forever, but these precious few minutes won by his stunt will allow more aid to be distributed and his men to pulls their asses out of the volcano that is about to erupt.

_*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*- Legion Neurological Memory Simulation *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* _

_Simulated Relative Time: 9:20 _

_Location: Sugarloaf Mountain, Rio de Janeiro, Yellow Zone Y-5_

I pushed my way through the crowd that was trashing and screaming amongst itself trying to get to the GDI food distribution line, using my small frame as an advantage to slip through the gaps in the crowd. It is the first in my life to see this many people at one place and is a miracle to see that they are not killing each other, yet. Unbelievable, maybe those campfire tales about millions of people living together without trying to smash eachother's head every waking moment aren't just fairytales after all.

I heard the shouts of Rawne behind me, telling me to watch out. But as I ran amongst the crowd, I felt something I never thought was possible, I actually felt save amongst people. For as long as I remember, assembly of more than a few dozen people is usually a prelude to carnage. But today was different, for all the screaming and pushing amongst the mob, for all the tension that hung in the air, the GDI loudspeakers blasting forth instructions seemed to instill something into the people, something they had lost generations ago, common sense.

For the first time in my life, I actually dared to look into the eyes of those that were not form my clan, and to my utter astonishment, I don't see the usual malignancy I was used to, instead, astonishment and curiosity was painted onto their faces.

My heart began to race, not from fear, but from excitement. I felt…I felt hope! Never in my life did I dare to imagine today, I had always tried to suppress my desire to hope for something, it will never happen anyways. But today was different, though I cant describe it in words, I know by intuition that what I see here, the fact that I'm running amongst humans without being killed and my body processed for food, this is the life I was hoping for, hope! How I have missed you!

I started running even faster, Ignoring Rawne's shouts for me to slow down, I wanted to see, I needed to see how GDI looks, I needed to see what otherworldly power managed to put some sense of humanity into humans, I needed to see more of the people standing there without killing each other. I felt the urge to run wild with people of my age, I couldn't believe it, but I actually felt I was a child, so is this how children used to live?

I chased after a few people of my age, should we be called kids? And we were giggling! Is this the way people used to grow up? I stopped, with a sudden sense of suspicion, was I dreaming? I tried to think back of today's event, the rude wakeup, the dirty breakfast, the ride and finally here. Too complete train of events for a dream, I usually don't remember anything when I'm dreaming.

So all the stories I have heard of the world of the past was true after all, people hadn't always been the beasts I have known after all. Crawling though the last lines of the crowd, I got my first glance at GDI….

The sight was overwhelming! The first thing that strikes me about GDI is how much taller they are, each and every one of them was a good deal taller than even the tallest of my clan and they are stronger, bulkier than anyone in the screaming crowd, appearing even larger in their full armor. The second striking thing is the fact that everything, and I mean everything they carry was in….unbelievable…..mint condition! Their vehicles, their equipments, anything!

For a long moment, I just stood here, my eyes fixed on them. The sleek hull of their armored vehicles, the gleaming of their grey-green armor in the morning sun, tainted orange from the atmospheric dust caused by ion-stormes, if there are knights in shining armor, these must be the knights. I probably would stand there and stare at them forever if someone didn't cut in front of me, the very sight of a life entirely different from the one I had known is simply too much for me to swallow, for my entire life I had dismissed the possibility of something better than what we know as fairy tales, there was not point in fantasizing about a life that won't be mine anyways.

I don't know if the life I see before me will be my future, I greatly doubt, but the very sight of a real fairytale is incredibly alluring. I needed to savior this sight, for it may be, that this will be the high point of my life.

Some asshole cut in front of me, blocking my sight and waving his arms like a monkey, screaming for the GDI soldiers to throw some crumbs. I crawled through the gap between his legs and started to do the same thing. I'm now right before the barbed wires, behind which stood a phalanx of GDI soldiers in full armor and locked in shield wall formation, despite the masks of their helmets, I could see the fear and anxiety on their faces, behind them stood an assembly of tanks and APCs each several times larger than the shack I'm living in. Snipers, armed with guns I have never seen before stood on the vehicles, nervously scouting the crowd.

Only now did I came out of my euphoria and realize how dangerous this place is, I needed to hurry to get something and out of here, or I'll be lunch on someone's table, not that there is much of me that can be eaten, but I guess my bones could be still be used for soup. The air was charged with currents of madness, the crowd will turn violent any moment.

I frantically looked around for someone that might show some pity for me, then I spotted him, standing on one of the tanks was a man, encased in the same face covering armor and flanked by two guards. He stood out even amongst the GDI people, on his armor was a number of decoration which can only be insignias of rank. Instinctively deciding to try my luck, I jumped and screamed for his attention, hoping for something, anything…

But alas! I was too short, two people cut in front of me even as I was jumping and screaming. I was pushed to the side by those trying to cut in front of me and landed with my face on the barbed wires, searing pain erupted on my face as the spikes cut long, bloody lines on my cheeks and nose. I resisted the urge to scream, I've had worse, much worse.

Suddenly, I was pulled form the ground. I looked up and saw Rawne.

"_Didn't I told you to stay with me?_" Rawne spoke, he was breathing heavily, must have been a real effort for him to push himself to the front. Fear was plastered on his face as he looked around and tries to avoid being trampled by the crowd.

A shot was heard, judged by the sound it was far and probably fired into the air. The mob was getting very impatient now. The GDI soldiers became very agitated at the sound of gunfire, instinctively taking several steps back and trained their weapons on the mob, which at this point started to boil over. Madmen, probably on drugs, starting to try tearing apart the barbed wire with their bare hands! Completely oblivious to the fact that their hands were cut into blood pulps!

Another shot, this time much closer. The tanks immediately started to roll in front of the thin skinned APCs and supply trucks, shielding the weaker vehicles with their thick hides. The GDI infantry at this point broke formation and retreated to the APCs. They are pulling back! Damn! And I haven't gotten anything yet! Carlos is goanna kill me for coming home empty handed!

The GDI soldiers started tossing supplies into the crowd as their vehicles moved. The mob finally collapsed into a swarm of mindless savage beasts, losing all pretense of humanity. Drew their weapons and started to fight over the dropped supplies. Stomping over each other and leaping over the barbed wire to run after the retreating GDI troops. It wasn't long that piles of bodies formed a bridge across the barbed wire after failing to jump over the wire and then trampled to death by those behind them.

"_Rawne! Hold me up so they can see me better!_" both of us, fear forgotten in our desperate need to get something ran across the bridge of dead bodies, he took me onto his shoulder and we ran like some freak totem post after the GDI motorcade.

"_Please! Please!_" I waved my arms, desperately hoping one of the GDI soldier would toss me something. Rawne was almost out of breath as he ran as fast as he could with me sitting on his shoulders.

At last! The GDI commander with the decorated armor saw me. He grabbed something from the tank and threw it at me.

"_I got it! I got it!_" I screamed, I looked, it was a large can, in mint condition! It was the first time in my life to hold a can in mint condition! The metal alone would trade me a full meal!

There were inscriptions about it's content, but I could neither read nor write. Only the large eagle symbol made any sense to me.

Rawne slowed down, out of breath. Suddenly we both collapsed to the ground. I landed hard with my face on the ground, smearing my wounds cut by the barbed wires. Someone must have pushed us over. Rawne immediately threw himself over me to protect me from further trampling, I held the can below me in a deathgrip. I wasn't going to let our hard fought meal go!

Luckily it was only one person, a granny, with only few teeth left and skin wrinkled and leathery as Carlos and eyes so glassy that I suspect she might be blind. She stomped Rawne's head hard who screamed in pain and collapsed, she then dived for the can in my arms. I trashed around, refusing to let the can go. But she grabbed one of my arms and bit hard with what teeth she still had in her mouth. I screamed as I felt her dirty teeth sank into my flesh. I was utterly stunned by the strength this old women had as she wrestled the can out of my arms. I guess she might not be as old as she looks, this abuse filled life makes wretched witches out of stunning maidens with terrifying efficiency.

She screamed in triumph as she got hold of the can and stepped over my face, trying to run away. But I wasn't let go of my prize yet. I grabbed one of her ankles, causing her to fall face first into the dirt. She turned and with the fieriness of a woman in her prime she brought her other foot onto my head, hard.

Ignoring the pain, I held up her leg and bit as hard as I could into her ankle, a devilish satisfaction overcame me as I felt her blood spill in my mouth, I just repaid the favor. She screamed at the top of her withered lungs as her ligament was severed by my sharp young teeth, just as she was about to give my head another stomp, Rawne struggled from the ground and threw a large rock right into her face.

She trashed and rolled from the pain of her smashed eyeballs, Rawne used this moment to grab the can and dragged me from the ground. We both ran, as fast as we managed to the sides, behind us was the crowd that was still chasing after the retreating GDI armored column. For a moment I looked back, and saw the old women being trampled to a bloody pulp by the onrushing crowd.

_Author's Note: So the rollercoaster ride starts now. I tired to make an as graphic description of the sad life in the yellow zone slums as possible. Writing the tooth and nail fight for the single food can actually made myself feel sick. However sad, this should be a plausible scenario in a world were food and water is more worth than gold!_

_Note the difference in standards between GDI personnel and the zone dwellers when they judge a situation. Karrder was terrified by the sight of the mob but for Jose, the fact that the people were not fighting each other was an unbelievable progress._

_I got the idea for the fiery granny from GTA, I was to jacking her car and the fat old lady started beating me up. It was so hilarious I just had to put it in here._

_A hint about legion's powers is given in this chapter, I will emphasize the vast superiority Kane has over humanity due to his (or its?) extra-dimensional background, which he however is incapable of utilizing to an full extend due to being trapped on earth._


	7. Glimpse of the Scorpion

_Reviewer: Um...tiberium-based nanosurgery? As in, tiberium being involved in surgery? Tiberium has been injected in Nod circles, whether it be tattoos or __Divination, but it sounds like the cure is worse than the disease in this case._

_Answer: If you boil an egg, you can't get a chicken out of it but you can still eat it so….._

_From the journal of junior technical advisor Adhmar Reyes ID:623478, GDI reclamation taskforce 209_

Edward's Airbase, Blue Zone B-2 Carlifornia

Orca Transport 0086, Inbound for Zone Y-5, Rio de Janeiro.

30 November 2032

Maybe it was a psychological effect but the air felt noticeably colder once we exited the tunnel and into Edward's airbase.

It is the first time in my life to leave Zone B-2. The sight was breath catching, Edwards airbase experienced major expansion since it came under GDI administration. It occupies almost 23 times more ground now. Maze like hangers and refueling towers surrounded the mile long central runway flanked by countless landing platforms for VTOL aircrafts.

Thousands of orca fighters were parked nearby, ground crews in airtight environmental suit engineer's version, the same type I'm wearing, busy with decontaminating and servicing the grounded orcas recently returned from yellow zone airspace. GDI pilots arrogantly pacing around and inspecting their bird.

Looking at the cool looking electronic infested pilot helmets and the armor covered bodies of the grunts who were riding in the same car with me, I felt quite jealous. The engineer's environmental suit offered better tiberium shielding than the infantry version but little trauma protection and it is heavy and cumbersome offering little mobility, in addition of lacking any sense of coolness.

Our railcar neared a fleet of orca transports, looking old but well maintained. Parked nearby were several of the newer supersonic OX transports, currently reserved for elite GDI air assault infantry. I have seen flying orca transports many times before but this the first time to actually board one. It looked immense! Especially to one who had never left B-2 before.

Lined against the hanger like cargo room were two rows of passenger seats with the spacious middle reserved for heavy equipments. We had one armored harvester and several heavy duty water purifier, each the size of a barn as well as numerous containers of food and medical supplies loaded with us.

As technical advisor, I would actually be entitled to a first class cabin as well as premium living and dining quarters during hazard zone deployments. However, Colonel Granger insisted that if he is to lead this mission, anyone under his command would live and fight together. So instead getting business class, I too had to strap myself onto one of the grunt's seats on the sides. The orca shook and roared as it picked up speed along the runway. GDI had her aircrafts take off the standard way instead of VTOL style when conditions allow to save fuel.

Like many of the newcomers, I was beyond excited and felt a strong urge to loosen my safety belts in order to ogle through one of the windows all of which are now covered with the heads of curious recruits. Blue Zone B-2 was a sight to behold from the air, a ring of ultra high tech buildings surrounding first a ring of extreme precious natural farmland and finally a central patch of green forest, the inner most ecological preservation zone. The sight was more than just beauty, it was one of hope.

But as soon as we crossed the outer perimeter wall, the whole thing turned 180 degrees. A vast expanse of lifeless brown, windswept plains with ruined settlements, abandoned ages ago. With only the occasional appearance of GDI bases and industrial facilities constructed near the blue zone perimeter showing any sign of life.

The 50km buffer zone outside the perimeter walls quickly passed and from here on. We are truly in the yellow zone bad lands. Raging sandstorms at ground level obstructed any observation attempt and in the far horizon I could make out distinct green fluorescent glow, the telltale deadly sign of tiberium fields. It was hard to believe that there would be still someone alive down there. What the hell would they live from? Looking back towards home, behind the mammoth walls of B-2, LIFE! Such was the contrast, a jewel surrounded on all sides by a lifeless ocean of orange colored wasteland, raging in a perpetual storm. The gigantic walls now look like thin sheets of paper, waving in the storm, trying to protect the divine contents behind it, I swear I cold see my home from here, more than 50 km away. This is what we are fighting to protect!

I turned my head away from the window, looking around. I decided to try to strike a conversation, trying to make a few friends amongst my future colleagues….

_Legion Memory Entry : 0001011010010010001110100001 _

_Access requested by: Lohan Rawne, aliases: Hero of the Brotherhood, Legendary Insurgent._

_Location: THE PROMISED LAND._

_Status of Elemental Phase Reconstruction Beam to Other Planes of Existence: ALL CONNECTIONS PERMANENTLY TERMINATED_

_Current Time: f-prime[lim(t-0)]_

_Concerning: Simulated Quantum State Reconstruction of Causal Chain before Ascension. _

_Access Purpose I: Review of Events Permitting Ascension_

_Access Purpose II: Memorial Dedicated to Adopted Son_

_Data Request I: Neurological Survey of Deceased Believers._

_Data Request II: Analysis of Causal Events_

_Subject ID: N/A – subject has no definitive name - aliases: Carlos, Miguel, Fidel,….. JOSE._

_Relative Time Imitated: 9:45 – 24:00., November 2032., Plane: 00110e-10110., Planet: 100010101e-1011., Location: Rio de Janeiro, Yellow Zone Y-5._

_Legion Response Status: ACCESS GRANTED_

_*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-Legion Neurological Memory Simulation*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-_

Rawne and I came out of breath to the spot our clan parked the technicals, almost 3 miles away from the GDI food distribution point. It had been a marathon for survival, we had been running for what seems like eternity, sprinting from cover to cover, dodging bullets and beast like mobs. In the distance, dense sounds of shooting echoed as the mob continued to battle amongst themselves for the remaining GDI supplies.

I collapsed near our technical, totally exhausted from today's harrowing events. But was pretty happy about our price, the mint quality GDI food can was a sight to behold. I wonder what it held, I hope tonight I get to taste something else than sticky brew for the first time in my life. Carlos gets to take a part of our booty but the rest belongs to the finder. A few members of our clan got back with more than one can, their blood stained machetes and smoking gun barrels tells how they got them.

It was already late noon when we arrived at the pickups and the distant cracking of thunder tells the coming of an ion storm. These nasty days are getting more frequent in recent years, probably because tiberium is spreading ever closer now to these lands. Ion storms are extremely dangerous, sometimes the entire atmosphere becomes conductive and electric discharges in the air can fry an entire town. Even if this does not happen, the endless lightning strikes and accompanying torrential, sometimes toxic, rain means anyone in the open is very likely to meet a flashing end. Now that GDI is here, I wonder if they are able to stop tiberium from consuming what's left of Rio. Actually, I'm not even sure if I want them to stop it. Frequently, I wished everything would just mercifully stop. I felt tired, so very tired of life. Often, I wonder why I bother. A number of people I had known had shot themselves over the years. I too had been considering a final exit and had put a gun on my head many times before. But each and every time lagged the guts to pull the trigger.

'_Attention! We are leaving now!' _The raspy voice of the aging, scavenged GDI field radio on our technical cracked again, bringing me off my almost daily suicidal meditation. We are leaving now. That means anyone falling behind is left behind. We couldn't risk waiting least we get caught in the ion storm. None of us complained about the comrades left behind. We were used to this, it was rare that everyone returned from a raid for supplies.

As we sped back towards our fortified encampment, the storm picked up strength, choking clouds of sand reduced visibility to a few hundred yards and what could go wrong just had to go wrong now. The thick sand cloud clogged the aging engine of our technical. It chocked a few times followed by ominous black smoke emerging from the engine hub. We were stuck! Damn!

The other technicals sped away without waiting. No one gives a damn what happens to you if you fall behind. The 8 people sitting in this pickup didn't panic though, engine failure were frequent with these stone age vehicles. The six people sitting in the cargo space including me stood sentry as the two drivers frantically tried to fix the car.

'_Come on bitch! Don't give up on me now!_' I heard one of the driver cursing as the engine refused to ignite.

I nervously scouted around trying to look for any danger that might emerge from the sand storm but could almost see nothing as the fine dust was irritating my eyes. I was no believer, but in helpless situations like these, there was little else I could do than to pray to whatever deity out there that no one and nothing would see us, that the engines would come to life again and carry us back to the relative safety of our encampment. We should have a good chance of making it. After all, we were well hidden in the sand storm.

Maybe it was because of my sins, maybe it was my usual luck, but it just had to happen that I, despite being almost blinded by the sand storm, saw humanoid figures in the storm. At first I hopped I was just hallucinating. But it quickly became clear that these are not phantoms of my tortured senses.

Moving through the orange dust, like ghosts, were several figures covered in turban like canvas fatigue. Their faces completely covered by canvas and their eyes hidden beneath black goggles. On their chests, carefully stricken into sickly beautiful patterns were human jawbones. Some of them, instead of having their faces covered by canvas, wore a human skull as mask!

I felt my blood ran cold. For a few seconds I just stood there. There was only one type of people that dressed like this. I heard many tales about them. They say these are clans that only feast on human flesh, that because of this they posses powers, what powers I don't known though, that they perform rituals, trying to imbue themselves with tiberium or got tib-infections that didn't actually killed them and that they no longer look human anymore and hence always kept their faces hidden.

I had no idea if those tales are true and this is the first time I actually see these fabled people or creatures. But one thing I needed to do was clear from the start.

'_Mutants! Mutants!_' I shrieked as loud as I could as I drew my machete. Everyone was startled for a second, especially the two drivers who were focused on fixing the car. Then a frantic wave of metallic clanking emerged as we drew our weapons. A couple of us had the luck to possess a rusty AKM, one of very few types of 20th century firearm that still worked after rotting for decades in these lands. Some more were armed with bolt action rifles or revolvers of unknown origin and Rawne had a double barreled shotgun but only a handful of shells, me and another boy of similar age only had machetes. We had a Browning 30 caliber machine gun mounted on the pickup, but the century old piece didn't work due to a lack in spare parts. However we kept it there for intimidation, no one knows it doesn't work after all.

Our quick and determined response seemed to have impressed the hooded cannibals. They did not advanced further but didn't retreated either.

'_Quick, fix the wagon and get us outta here!_' Rawne shouted to the two drivers who were busy pointing their guns.

They went back to their frantic repairs that resembled more like fumbling while the rest of us, with our hearts pounding, kept our guns and swords trained at the hooded creatures. Our firepower was impressive by yellow zone standard and they knew that.

We breathed a collective sigh of relieve as the hooded creatures slowly retreated into the sandstorm. However, our relieve was short lived as a few moments later, they emerged again and this time in greater numbers!

Having survived for a long time in the Zones, you kind get an instinct on when to pull the trigger. A split second too early an otherwise salvageable situation will end with many dead on both sides, a split second too late and you and your buddies are going to be dinner on the enemies table. Anyone who didn't manage to acquire this type of skill or was just plainly unlucky died ages ago, natural selection at its finest.

We opened fire the moment we spotted their numbers. A couple of them went down instantly. However their return fire fell the two drivers and the boy next to me took a bullet in his head. Fragments of his blown away skull flew like grenade shrapnel around us.

'RUN!' Someone screamed. There was no way we could beat their superior numbers. The five survivors of us began mad dashes into two different directions. Rawne, me and another guy took off together, not really knowing or caring where we were running to.

But the cannibal mutants weren't going to let their meal slip away just yet. I felt bullets sizzling past me as two of them on a motorbike raced towards us. Rawne and the other guy turned and unleashed a hail of bullets of our own. The driver lost control of the bike and crashed into a nearby ruined wall, sending the two bastards flying.

'Quick! Get on the bike.' Rawne instructed.

'You know how to drive?' Despite the gravity of the situation, I just had to let out my surprise. After all, not everyone in the zones has the luck to learn how to drive. A working vehicle is a serious asset for any clan.

Rawne glared at me angrily but didn't say anything, apparently insulted by my doubts about his abilities. But there was no time to waste, we could hear more vehicles approaching.

The three of us ingeniously sat onto the bike, Rawne driving, me sitting in the last place and the other guy sandwiched between us facing towards the rear, so he could shoot backwards.

Rawned hit the engine of this relatively new bike and we began the race for our lives. It quickly turns out that my doubts about Rawne's driving ability were not entirely unfounded. He could drive, but barely. The bike was staggering all the way like a toddler and could crash any moment and the whole thing wasn't helped by the fact that a horde of mutants were shooting at us and the guy in front of me was using my neck as a handle as he returned fire with his revolver, each of my breathing attempts were pure agony as I chocked from his grip.

Ruined buildings raced past us and maybe some divine intervention our bike wasn't toppled by the countless obstacles that clogged the narrow passage. Even though I wasn't looking back I could tell, we hit several of those bastards. It wasn't long before they gave up the chase. The poor visibility the incoming ionstorm brought was dangerous to them as well. They too didn't have any idea where they were going if they chased us for too long.

After losing them, we still drove like maniacs for over twenty minutes. Rawne was too much in shock to stop and the other guy had to pistolwhip him for him to stop the bike, least we run out of fuel and even after he stopped the bike, he still cling onto the controls as if driving, fixed and unable to move. It took a long moment for him to get off the bike. Slumping onto the ground Rawne buried his head in his hands. Despite the fact that we had been in similar situation many many times before, one never really get used to a too close call with death.

"Where are we?" He mumbled, still having his head slumped.

Looking around, there was little I could make out in the dusty storm. Although the splashing sounds of water indicated that we are close to the coast and through the foggy sand cloud I could barely make out the skeletal looking sky scrapper ruins that formed the privileged district of Rio in it's better days.

"We probably don't have enough fuel to go back." I commented.

"We will have to spend the night out there anyways." The other guy, whose name I never remembered replied as he pointed to the flashing sky. The deadly ion storm was approaching, we had about half an hour to find some shelter to sit out the deadly electrical frenzy that is about to come.

Finding a shelter in the zones is no easy matter, despite the fact that the ruined city had an innumerable amount of holes formed by collapsed buildings, it is rarely a good idea to explore them as one never know who or what is hiding in them. Tiberium fiends roam these lands, one bite and you are cursed to become some kind of mindless mutant.

However, the lightning bolts of the ion storm was approaching fast, we had to find shelter, now! We got back onto the bike and drove around, frantically looking for anything that looked reasonably safe and where we could hide in for the night.

It was only when we spotted weathered, broken head stones around us in the sandy mist that we realized we just entered an old cemetery. A burial ground for the privileged of Rio to be precise, for dotted across the plains were large monuments, weathered statures of martyred angles that looked like tiberium fiends in the mist. In the distance I could make out the shape of a ruined church probably once a funeral chapel.

We stopped near a row of once expensive looking mausoleums, they must have belonged to really wealthy people. However, indication of tiberium devastation is evident here as well. Hastily dug large pits filled with heaps of scorched bones show that in the early days of tiberium infestation, Rio had to resort to cremation in mass graves in order to dispose the remains of the infected. Apparently the lack of burial space meant that even the wealthy had to share their final resting with the plague victims, scorched bodies were jammed into every available space here.

It began to pour, the sandstorm settled down but visibility didn't improve as the rain was so hard. Actually, visibility in the Zones is rarely good. There is almost always some kind of freak weather obscuring the view. Lightning strikes of the ion storm started to pepper the carcass of Rio, dropping like heavy bombs and sending debris flying wherever the supercharged bolts land.

There was no more time for hesitation, we parked the bike at a mausoleum that was in a somewhat better shape. Two martyred angle statures, whose weathered shapes resembled more like Lucifer's minions, flanked it's entrance. Given someone from another time, this scene might warrant some real serious goose skin. For us, this was just another day, we've been through worse, much worse. The dead seems so much more friendlier when every living being you encounter wants you ON their dinner table.

The rusty locks to the doors gave in after a few kicks and we carefully descended the steps into the crypt, an uncomfortable smell of fungus filled the air. Rawne and the other guy had their guns trained ahead. We breathed a sigh of relieve as we found the crypt empty except for the numerous sarcophaguses lining the niches of the walls. Each of them had inscriptions which I don't understand since I can't read. Though I have to say that being illiterate does have it's advantages in this case. Whatever they say is probably only going to add to our present misery.

We all plumbed our asses onto the ground, utterly exhausted both physically and mentally…..

For what felt like an eternity, we just sat there starring at each other. No one had the nerves to say anything. Thunderous lightning blasts echoed outside the crypt which has become our ad hoc ion storm shelter. Even though we didn't had any flashlights the furious electrical bolts of the unnatural storm lighted the place up to a viewable level regularly, unnatural, wolf like howling of tiberium fiends echoed in the distance. They are particularly aggressive and dangerous during ion storms.

I could see that the other guy didn't let down his guard and wearily scouted for any sign of danger while Rawne lay spread eagled on the floor and seemed to dose off. He had always seemed to be the most carefree person. Honestly, I envy him for it. He seems to be well contented with this life. I on the other hand do yearn for a better life. I do have desires, useless desires that will never be fulfilled, of that I'm fully aware. Through my short life, I have seen hundreds of people come and go, each telling at some point how they want to live one day. I have yet to see one person getting his wish, even remotely.

We stayed in this frozen state for another eternity when finally my stomach decided to wake me up, I was starving. Then I suddenly remembered the can we managed to obtain earlier.

_'Rawn. Rawn!'_ I rocked him awake. He awoke mumbling nonsense. Apparently having slept quite well, even after today's events! _'Where did you put the can?_' I asked.

He seemed to remember something he wanted to do but forgot along the rocky ride earlier. All our faces brightened up when he pulled out the can from his beat up canvas backpack.

_'Man! I can't wait!'_ The other guy jumped in joy.

Normally, I would be upset to have to share my rations with someone I don't really know. However, we've been through so much today together, hopefully this will make us allies in the future. Having one more ally gives a big boost to your chances of survival around here.

We pried open the can like the horde of hungry animals that we are right now and rattled it's contents out. A number of transparent plastic bags, very clean and in excellent condition lay on the floor. None of the inscriptions on them made any sense to me but it wasn't hard to judge their contents, especially when I'm so hungry. A few of them contained colorless liquid that must be drinking water, GDI grade drinking water! Others contain sticky stuff that looks not unlike the one I've being eating for my whole life, but each bag contained one of different colour! Still a few more had solid brown sticks I had no idea what they were, but whatever they were, the sheer beauty of their quality of manufacture made me water.

Usually, such an occasion would call a careful division of the booty. Everyone gets a share based on his perceived contribution, an event that frequently became violent because not everyone agrees. But for this occasion none of use seemed to mind that the others simply grabbed what he wanted. We tore open whatever bag we grabbed and emptied its contents down our throats without even looking at it. A rather foolish thing to do when one had to consider that this might be our only ration for several days. But when one hasn't seriously tasted anything else besides salty sticky stew and flesh of slain enemies for one's entire life, basic instincts tends to overwhelm reason.

Having emptied every possible crumb from the can, we all let out joyful moans, a rare thing here in the Zones. Man! How everything seems to get better with a full stomach! Even though I don't think I had eaten a lot I felt full and energized, I guess GDI had some really cool tricks in preparing their food, is there anything these guys can't do?

_"Man those GDI dude's surely knows how to live!_" Rawne mumbled with a full mouth and broad smile. We seem to light up and become more talkative once our hunger had been stilled.

_"No kidding! Tastes kind like food before the great war, only better!"_ the other guy replied. He seemed to be in his late forties although I doubt that's his actual age, few people live more than thirty-five in this slime hole. Large numbers of gray streaks run through his dirty dark brown hair, testimonial of all the years of hardship trying to survive.

"Y_eah, way better than the NOD MRE's they used to give me_." Rawne retorted while making himself comfortable leaning on a sarcophagus absolutely oblivious to the morbidity of his 'pillow'.

"_You've being with NOD before?_" me and the other guy asked, almost at the same time, with shocked surprise. Despite the fact that we've been in the same clan for a long time now, it is rare anyone talked about their past, for reasons that are inexplicable to me. It's not like we've got things to hide, everyone here got really nasty pasts anyways.

Rawne: "_Yeah, well not really actually! I've been raised by NOD operatives. They told me that they pulled me out of a burning vehicle as an infant, then raised me as their own._"

"_Wow! How did it happen?_" My interest had been awoken, I guess the food really lightened up all our moods and loosened our lips as well.

Rawne: _"All I know is what they've told me. That at the beginning of Tibwar2 when NOD liberated Sao Paulo, confessor Maicol and his squad of acolytes found me as an infant in a burning car. They pulled me out and decided to raise me as their son, by the time I could remember anything NOD had already lost Tibwar2. They were not really defeated though, only scattered really. Maicol led us through the difficult period after Tibwar2 when tiberium infestation started to spin out of control and what was left of Brazil and the rest of the world collapsed. Our small group of acolytes moved from place to place, struggling to survive, fighting off marauding gangs, heretics, GDI death squads, mutants and so on. All the while Maicol never seemed to stop his rants about the greatness of the prophet and his vision of ascension, constantly preaching to pretty much everyone and sometimes even everything we met and so on…kind gets annoying after a while you know."_

"_You don't seem to be especially pious for a noddie."_ The other guy said with laughter.

"_What happened then? Why did you left them?"_ I asked, eager to know more, even the story of something that resembles a family gets me excited.

Rawne: _"I didn't left, where would I go anyways. It sort just happens you know… in the Zones…we steadily lost members of our squad to famine, diseases, firefights...that kind of stuff. Maicol himself never came back from a raid on a GDI supply convoy. Eventually I was the only one left of his squad."_

"_How did you survived?"_ The other guy asked.

"_Well, I think I was five or six at the time, Maicol said I'm too young to hold a gun but I think he just don't want me to risk it."_ Rawne said with a loud sigh and then added _"He might well have taken me along to the front, maybe then it would have being faster for me."_

Me and the other guy sank for a short time, his depressed words brought us out of the temporary euphoria created by this conversation. But I decided to keep the talk going, if only as a means to get my mind off the horrifying howling of tiberium fiends in the distance.

"_He did you end up here then?_" I asked

Rawne: _"I first tried to return to Sao Paulo, see if I had any relatives left there, but by then I heard the city was already walled into (B-?) so couldn't go back. Besides, I don't have a vehicle and there was no way I would survive the long journey through the wastelands. Maicol was a native of Rio, he once told me he came from some place called Rocinha favella. I thought maybe I could find someone he knew in Rio and live with them. Don't know how I managed to survive the journey here but…ahheee…"_ He grunted with frustaration _"somehow I just manage to stay afloat all these years."_

"_Didn't you manage to find shelter with other NOD forces?"_ The other guy asked.

Rawne: _"Naaah! I don't trust the other NOD troops, you see with NOD, each qabal works in their own ways, especially after Kane was killed, pretty much the same as the clans around here. They fight more amongst themselves than against GDI." _

We sat there starring at each other for awhile, letting the story sink in. It was Rawne who finally broke the silence.

"_So what about you? What's your name anyways?"_ He asked the other guy, despite being in the same clan, casual conversations are rare. For really A LOT of nutsjobs live amongst us, an improperly phrased sentence might lead to a death fight!

"_Me? I'm Greg Duncan, used to live in Illinois once"_ He said.

"_Really? How did you end up here then?"_ Rawne asked, a little shocked. I had heard that back in the age of nation states, Illinois was in a wealthy one. To me, that concept is a little abstract to warrant a shock, but I guess Rawne was old enough to remember some part of the old world.

"_You see, I was a farmer once, used to run my own Ranch back before Tibwar2. Back then I had a pretty decent life."_ He said with a long sigh, understandably the long fall from a decent life in North America to surviving in the yellow zone wastelands bears hard on him.

"_Before and during Tibwar2 tiberium veins started to seep into the soil near the farm my family had owned for generations…"_ He started to choke on these parts "_…and lost my youngest daughter to a swarm of tiberium fiends._"

Rawne and I didn't comment, letting him pick himself together.

"_We were ruined, and had to move to place to place, I took part time jobs here and there to support my family. It wasn't long before tiberium contamination became so severe in the central parts of America that people started to flood the coastal areas and I heard the news that the U.S. federal government officially disbanded and merged into GDI command structure. A rather dignified end considering most other countries simply collapsed into civil war." _He continued.

"_It was then I learned that GDI had established so called Blue Zones around the world, places that were relatively pristine. The first one was established in Reykjavik, Iceland. The second one in California. I tried to move there but found out that GDI required applications from everyone trying to move in. That place was already overflowing from refugees flooding in from everywhere. They pulled me through a bureaucratic nightmare, being only a high school graduate I wasn't high on their 'to be preserved' list, they wanted scientists, engineers, experienced soldiers.…" _He looked almost as if he were to cry at this point.

"_I begged them, on my knees, to at least let my family move in…..to no avail. I tried desperately to find a job in the camps controlled by GDI which by then was at the point of exploding from the sheer number of refugees arriving, but only soldiering was still available. I didn't wanted to fight, and by the time I was desperate enough to join even that job was gone."_ He started to sob at this point.

"_We were forced to survive by selling whatever stuff we could salvage from the wastelands and…and…. after losing my two other kids to disease my wife left me too." _He started to cry now.

Rawne and I sank our faces in sympathy. It would have been polite to let him cry in peace but I was burning with curiosity. All these life stories…, they are fantastic. Despite the fact that none of them were in anyway happy, they just seem to be so much different to the life that I know, the old world must have being a really different place. Finally I couldn't wait anymore and decided to softly ask him to continue. It took a while before Duncan finally pulled himself together.

"_After losing everything I had, I just wandered aimlessly around the GDI refugee camp, awaiting the end… But fate decided it hasn't toyed with me for long enough. One day I heard over the megaphone that a food company ran by GDI in Sao Paulo was hiring experience farmers in their hydroponic farm, at that time Brazil still existed, albeit mostly on paper, GDI was running the real show there. The vast majority of Brazil's territories were conquered by the green pest including the lush Amazons. I quite literally jumped at the news and ran across the camp trying to find Emily, but she was nowhere to be found. I never found out of what happened to her._" His face was one of anguish and guilt and once again began to shed tears. Although this time he didn't pause and kept telling his story in between sobs.

"_Sao Paulo was still relatively pristine at that time and GDI planned to cordon it off for it to become part of Blue Zone B-8 South America. This was my chance to become a blue zone citizen. But I had lost everything already. The whole thing felt more like a mockery then relief. I felt like an empty shell, during the time when GDI shipped me to Sao Paulo I slurped down every bottle of alcohol I could find and by the time I arrived I they nearly rejected me for my drunkenness. I did a pretty good job afterwards though, having been raised in a family who ran farms for generations I did well in GDI's hydroponics and even won employee of the month several times, but I was too depressed to enjoy any of the honor and bonuses they bestowed upon me, squandered pretty much all my earnings on alcohol. During that time I saw them raising the walls that would become the perimeter of B-8, I would become a blue zone citizen, all alone."_

He stopped and gave another long sigh. _"But then one day NOD came, almost out of nothing and its funny GDI didn't even realized it was NOD who came. The People that were shut out by the walls camped just outside, protesting daily, trying to get in before the newly erected walls would shut them out forever. GDI forces easily kept them at bay with tear gas and rubber bullets. But that day was different, another mob suddenly came on armored technicals and improvised tanks and without warning launched a concentrated assault on the southern wall section that wasn't finished by then. GDI never expected that kind of speed and firepower. When these newcomers broke through, the people who were protesting outside the walls followed and swarmed Sao Paulo, looting and burning everything down in their path. It was only when the new fiery group raised the scorpion banner on the tallest building in the city that we realized what happened. NOD forces soon stormed the hydro farm I was working in. Our manager was executed for being a GDI oppressor. They spared me, part for my skills in farming and part because they saw me as the working class here._

_GDI tanks counter attacked a few weeks later and NOD retreated from Sao Paulo. They took me with them to Rio to work on their hydro-farm. After TibWar2, NOD became splintered and the hydroponic I worked in started to run out of fertilizers and spare parts and became increasingly dysfunctional from the chaos in their ranks. Eventually I left and….it came this way…"_He slumped against the wall, exhausted from having to recall such terrible past.

Both Rawne and Duncan looked saddened and tired, their pasts weights heavily on them. To me though, it was exciting. They both did had at least some good time, Rawne had an adoptive family and Duncan had a real one. Wished I could tell some story but Duncan already speaks my thoughs with a sad smile looking at me "_I guess it's just keeps getting worse with every generation._".

They went to sleep after this harrowing day, not bothering to make anything resembling a bunk, we didn't had anything to sleep on anyways, just slumped down and drifting off. I volunteered to take the first watch.

The tomb became a dead silent one again after our somewhat heartwarming bedtime conversation. The silence of the tomb combined with the ion-storm thunder and howling of tiberium fiends in the distance began increasingly to unsettle me and for some inexplicable reason I felt my end was approaching. I had the strangest feeling I won't survive the next few years. I have being faced with death almost daily in my life, but never got this type of weird gut feeling before. That was a bad omen indeed, I used to know a few people who said they felt they were about to die, and it all came true soon after. So maybe it was my time then. Am I afraid? Not really. It's hard to fear death a lot if it's a daily business. But I do feel saddened nevertheless, regretting never to even really had a dream for a better life of some sort.

I decided to kill time by fantasizing about my mystical island again, it was beautiful, it was where I wanted to be one day…it….I don't know how long I was out when I awoke with a startle, but I drifted off on my watch! It could have killed us all. I noticed the room was glowing in an eerily bright yellow light and nearly freaked out before calming down. It was yellow okay, not green. There was only one thing that had yellow fluorescence around here.

"_Rawne! Rawne_! Wake up!" I tried to rock him awake. Ha! Now it's me who is interrupting his sweet dreams. He rolled over annoyed, mumbling non-sense.

"_God damit! Get up! Look what I've found._" I forcefully opened his eyelashes, same way he did to me earlier today. He grunted and sat up, instantly dropping his jaws when he saw the yellow neon-like light shining out of the creeks of the numerous sarcophaguses.

We were overjoyed to see this sight and rocked Duncan awake. With some efforts, we managed to remove the lid to one of the sarcophaguses. Lying in the stone casket, amongst decayed but still expensive looking fabrics was a mummified corpse it's leathery, withered grisly features are covered with glowing, bright yellow, hair-like outgrowths. These are popularly called 'Demon's weed' a type of mutated fungi growing on decaying organic matter. It's a type of moderately addictive feel good drugs that is immensely popular in the Zones where countless people looking for, and failing to find, an exit from the daily misery and thus usually resort to a quick fix with a smoking stick of this rolled hallucinogen, if they are wealthy enough to trade for or lucky enough to find them that is.

They cause euphoria for a few hours without a too strong comedown and do suppress hunger, a major specter around here. Some claim they get to achieve enlightenment smoking the stuff, others claim to be able to communicate with their deceased relatives that they miss so much while high. Whatever the truth, bottom line is, this stuff is besides weapons and foodstuff one of the more valuable tradable goods around in the Zones. Wealthy warlords amply supply their troops with this drug, keeping their moral high even in the most deplorable conditions. Indeed, the talk about people joining Pablo-o-Impiedoso's army for the sole purpose of having a steady supply of demon's weed is not too far-fetched, after all, what higher reward is there than to escape the daily misery in the Zones. There are certain dangers to it's use though, prolonged use are known to cause cognitive deterioration, wild mood swings, distorted senses and madness. Not that these are serious symptoms here in the zone. The real catch is that they are sometimes contaminated with tiberium, they are fungi mutated by tiberium after all, which spells the most painful death known to us.

"_Oh god damn! Look at all that cedar! This cemetery must be full of this stuff! We're gonna be rich!_" Duncan squealed.

"_Dude, if Carlos get's wind we withhold this stuff from him, he'd skin us all._" Rawne commented, looking concerned.

"_Oh yeah? And is he here to watch us? Let's not talk about it to anyone else, we can come over here later, harvest that stuff and sell it to whomever me meet._" Duncan argued.

Rawne hesitated, having served Carlos for many years, the tyrannt's brutality really left a mark on his balls.

"_Look. These tombs here are stuffed with bodies, that means the weed must grow all over the place around here. That's an immense amount! If we secretly harvest here once a while, we will be able to trade for enough food and weapons to start our own clan!_" Duncan suggested "_Maybe we would be able to trade for hydroponic equipments and I could set up a one that produces real food. Maybe, maybe…" _Duncan said thoughful "_maybe we would be able to buy our way into a blue Zone one day. I think the boy deserves better than this_". He said and looked sadly at me.

I felt touched by his words, maybe I did remind him of one of his kids. But I was not very excited. I simply lack the necessary imaginative capacity to envision a better life and that weird feeling of my incoming passing isn't helping either.

Rawne however was excited at the prospect of this, however remote it is, he had always being able to uphold some kind of hope somehow. I do admire him much for it.

"_Jose, borrow me your machete. We'll take a batch now and come back for more later._" Rawne requested so he could cut the weed. Normally I'd rather die than hand in my weapon, but he's one of the few I do trust who wouldn't take my weapon and run away with it or use it on me.

Rawne started to cut the bright fluorescent weed, while Duncan filled his pockets with it.

"_Man, I'm gonna need a fix, right now!_" Duncan laughed as he pried off a piece of the decayed wooden coffin that lay inside the stone sarcophagus to start a drill fire.

"_Yeah! Me too!_" Rawne laughed.

"_Wait! Don't we have to stay sober? We have to make our way back to the camp at dawn._" I interjected.

They both looked at me with a wicked smile, I understood, oh great! Now I have to stay awake all night. Once they are done harvesting on that corpse they smashed open another sarcophagus to harvest more. I looked at the mummified corpse, which glowed in the same unnatural yellow fluorescent light as the weed that grew on it. The light shine through the eye sockets of the corpse, giving it such a ghastly look that I really felt my skin crawl despite the fact I'm a veteran of grisly scenes.

I remember the camp fire stories about tiberium victims, how they fail to find rest and return from the grave to haunt the living. I never really know if it's true although with tiberium, any possibility could not be ruled out. The bodies interred here are unlikely that of those that died of tiberium infection, still, the fact that demon's weed grew on them means that tiberium infestation must be close, even if the level is low. I was considering the danger of possible contamination when I suddenly noticed movements in the eye sockets of one of the mummies Rawne and Duncan had already harvested from.

I almost screamed out aloud when I saw it, although only a loud squeal came out. The scream suppressed by instinct, it may attract the tiberium fiends in the distance.

"_It! It!..."_ I stuttered, a rare thing for me_"It just moved!_" I shouted silently to Rawne and Duncan.

They interrupted their work and walked over to the body they tore out before, carefully inspecting it.

"_There is nothing, Jose. You must be hallucinating._" Rawne said, not in a teasing but a deadly serious tune. I think THE possibility had dawned on him, he had his share of experience with tiberium life forms.

But I wasn't letting up yet. I'm not going to tell campfire stories, rather I told them the thing that had been bothering me all the while.

"_Have you actually considered why this place is full of weed and there is no one to harvest it? It can't be possible that no one living around here hadn't discovered this much weed for so long?_" I said.

They thought about it seriously, Rawne knew that that I'm not one who puts up bad jokes.

"_The only reason I can think of, is that this place is infested! I mean think of it! The whole freaking place is stuffed with the bodies of those that died from tiberium poisoning. What if the cremation didn't destroy all the tiberium? It surely didn't or there is no weed! What if life tiberium got into the bodies and...I mean somehow the tiberium mutated because it comes into contact with the bodies..and…and got...animated?" _I said the last words with hesitation. For one I didn't know if my hypothesis was even plausible but also because I didn't want to freak everybody including me out by that possibility.

Apparently that possibility did freak out everyone. Duncan and Rawne drew their weapons and slowly backed away from the corpses.

"_Okay! Okay! Everyone be cool…" _Rawne said, more to himself then to us as he pointed his shotgun at the bodies and tried to think of a way out of the situation.

We couldn't get out of the underground tomb. It was still night and tiberium fiends will be stalking the ruins. If we stay….

"_Let's slowly get them back into the sarcophaguses."_ Duncan said in a hushed voice.

Rawne and I nodded and went to work. The two of us pulled the bodies by their feet while Duncan was pointing his revolver at the head all the while. I was surprised by how heavy the mummies were as we dumped several of them into a single sarcophagus. Now we have to somehow get the heavy stone lid back on.

There was no way me and Rawne could move it by ourselves. It was easy enough to shove it to the ground to open the casket but trying to pick that stone slab from the ground proofed to be much more exhausting.

Duncan holstered his gun and helped us, but in doing so there was no one to guard the bodies anymore. Just as we almost had the lid back on it happened!

One of the remaining bodies that was still on the ground suddenly let out a high pitched scream, like that of tiberium fiends. It dived for Duncan with and bit into his lower leg. Duncan shriek, instantly released the stone lid as he was pulled to the ground, the lid crashed into two on the edge of the open sarcophagus we were trying to seal. A half of it landed on Rawne, trapping him underneath.

'_Tiberium Zombie!' _This time I screamed out aloud，unable to contain my shock and fear any further.

My scream seems to awake more of the living dead as several other zombies smashed through the walled up burial niches in the wall, pummeling out in clumsy but surprisingly fast ways.

For a few seconds I just stood here, utterly stunned by the scene unfolding before me. The zombies swarmed onto ducan who was struggling with the one that bit him. He managed to draw his pistol and shot the zombie grappling on his leg in the head. The gunshot ringed through the night filled with the screams of tiberium fiends. It could draw them here any moment.

To my horror, fluorescent green liquid tiberium splashed out from the wound. Wherever the liquid tiberium drops land, the material near it was almost instantly turned into green crystalline tiberium! I have heard stories about the extreme assimilation capability of liquid tiberium before but this is the first time I actually saw it. And the look was so fascinating that I was watching the scene open mouthed despite the obvious danger around me.

Duncan was finished, despite having shot the zombie that assaulted him, he was bitten. Around the wound on his leg was a ring of small, sickly looking green crystals. The tiberium creature's 'saliva' must have gotten into the wound. He was writhing and howling in almost surreal agony as the liquid tibrium worked it's matter assimilation process directly in his bloodstream even as more of the 'blood' of the zombie trickled onto him, instantaneously turned his skin into more green crystals. Luckly for him, he didn't have to go through the agonizing slow death resulting from tiberium infection as more zombies fell over him, tearing him apart, gorging on his flesh like some kind of feast of hell. The scene made me cry out, loud! Instead of running I was crying like a helpless little boy, which I technically am. I felt utterly helpless and if I had any parents I probably would cover my eyes and run up to them for protection.

It wasn't until I heard Rawne that my nerves, forged from the years surviving in the zones steeled themselves again.

"_Jose! Run!" _Rawne shouted even as he was trapped beneath the half cracked stone lid. He was trying hard to free himself.

I didn't run, I was determined to get him out whatever it takes. I stomped onto the head of zombie that tried to crawl to the immobilized Rawne, and picked up his double barreled shotgun and was about to shoot another when I suddenly remember that their liquid tiberium blood might spill on me!

That moment of hesitation almost cost me my life as the zombie grabed my neck and pushed me to the ground, making me lose my grip on the gun. I struggled with what strength my meager, undernourished arms had to prevent the Zombie from biting and infecting me. It shriek with such horrible fury that I had the urge to cover my ears as it tries to sink it's crystalline like fangs into me. The zombie's skull changed from the bright yellow light it had earlier into an eerie green fluorescent glow now. Does this actually mean that tiberium is an intelligent lifeform wearing the sheep's skin of a long deceased person? Hungry to turn anything in it's path into more of itself?

These questions raced through my head even as I was engaged in a death struggle. I felt my arms weaken under the incredible strength of the creature that forced itself on me.

Luckily Rawne got hold of my machete even as he was trapped, and hit hard on it's spine with the blunt end, cracking it. The Zombie let out a piercing howl as it released me. I send it into a corner with an additional hard kick.

I ran to Rawne even though there were at least twelve or so zombies that awoke from our intrusion. Frantically I tried to remove that stone slap that had jammed his lower body. But even with our combined strength the stone slap could not be moved fast enough as the zombies stumbled towards us. I was close to tears when I realized the situation but I wasn't going to leave him behind. I couldn't leave the only person I trust in this world to such a horrible fate. Determined to make a last stand defending him I picked up his shotgun and fired into the horde of tiberium creatures despite the risk of their 'blood' spilling on us. The two 12-gauge shells cut a few of the zombies almost in half, large amount of liquid tiberium gushed from the cut up torsos. Others that were hit by stray pellets were sent into confusion, one was hit in the knee by a pellet. It stumbled and fell towards us, it's eye sockets glowing with unholy green frenzy and fixed on us, trying to feast on all living matter it came across.

By some divine intervention, it fell exactly onto the cracked stone sarcophagus lid that trapped Rawne, it's gigantic strength shattered the lid as it trashed around, trying to grab Rawne. He was freed, but his leg was hurt.

I reloaded the Shotgun and fired once more into the swarm of Zombies before putting Rawne's arm over my shoulders and stumbled as fast as we could out from the tomb.

Outside, it was becoming clear that our fire exchange down there had attracted the roaming tiberium fiends. The howling are becoming much closer.

The rain had largely stopped but visibility is once again poor as the fog was heavy following the ionstrom downpour and the Zombies at this point started to follow us out of the tomb and my hair almost fell out as I watched the ground around us move! Our intrusion must have set in motion a chain reaction! All the dormant tiberium zombies are awakening.

I was frantically helping Rawne onto the bike we parked outside when I heard a shout, a human shout.

"_Get down!"_ It was shouted in a simple yet extremely authoritative tone.

We both dived onto the ground by instinct. Immediately after, bullets wizzled past our heads and with great accuracy they slammed into the Zombies that were following us. Almost each shot was a heady. The zombies fell in droves in the hail of high precision shots.

Whoever was shooting must be superbly experienced with firearms. A rare thing in the Zones as there is rarely enough ammunition going around for someone to become a good marksman.

It wasn't long before the final Zombie's head exploded and for a moment the cemetery was calm again. Both Rawne and I were breathing heavily in relieve despite we were nervous who saved us from the creatures and why did they saved us.

I was so exhausted that I didn't even managed to raise my head to see who saved us as I heard people approaching. It was only after an armored gauntlet appeared before my face that I raised my head.

_"You okay kid!"_ A rough male voice rang.

It was then I saw about 10 or so figures emerging from the fog, most were clad in old TibWar2 style NOD battle armor. The leader that was helping me up wore armor that was old but apparently well maintained. He was holding a semi mint condition AK-105 that was still smoking and had a M16MKII slang on his back.

_'Are you Pablo O'Impiedoso's men?"_ I asked Before noticing the curled grey scorpion tail on his gauntlet…


	8. Deus Ex Machina

From the journal of junior technical advisor Adhmar Reyes, GDI reclamation taskforce 209

Bay of Mexico, Orca Transport 0086, Inbound for Zone Y-5, Rio de Janeiro.

31 November 2032

Having dozed off during our flight, I was awoken by my colleague, dough boy. Earlier I tried, and failed, to start meaningful conversations with other peoples on the plane, that leaves my old school friend and now colleague the only one for me to talk to.

"_Yo dude, look! We are totally at Red Zone R-7 now_" He said with a valley boy tone of rather elementary level. An accent he tried hard to learn in a desperate attempt to appear cool at what few parties we could afford to celebrate in between our busy schedule.

I sat up and looked out of the hatch like window. It took us almost half an hour to get to R-7, the giant tumor that destroyed most of the North American continent. The orca transports had an immensely high loading capacity, comparable to that of ships, at the cost of not being much faster than 20 century civilian airliner. If we were to fly with the newer OX-transporters, we would arrived at Camp Hope in less than three hours.

We were flying along the coast in order to get around, instead of across R-7, for this aircraft is not likely to make it through the ion-storm infested airspace of R-7. We were flying on the dirty, contaminated ocean so as to avoid R-7, but couldn't fly too far from land either as the violent winds at high seas caused by global tiberium contamination was very dangerous.

Far at the coast, I could make out the jagged shapes of tiberium glaciers, giant, mountain like tiberium monocrystals. Smoke like ion discharges from the giant crystals, the culprit of many of the freak global weather change, was visible even from this distance, accompanied by constant lightning bolts that made R-7's airspace crack with malignant energy.

It was the first time in my life to see a tiberium glacier with my own eyes and frankly, it looked beautiful, albeit in a horribly intimidating way. It is hard to not admire the courage and dedication of the ZOCOM guys down there trying hard to eradicate these giant cancers.

We arrived at Camp Hope at 2:00 a.m. 31 November 2039, 25 kilometers away from Rio's former city center. My heart was pounding as we began our descent towards Y-5. Even though it was night I could make out the horrible, skeletal looking remains of Rio's skyscrapers. I have to say that the ruined city looked much scarier up close than on W3N talkshows, like a giant cemetery.

The orca transport touched down VTOL style and immediately the military atmosphere began to unsettle me even though I had received relevant training before. The moment the drawbridge like back door was opened, loud, rough orders were barked to us to do a slow run into the nearby hanger for and further briefing. I took a mental note as I exited the orca and stepped for the first time onto the ground of a real yellow zone, that was indeed a moment to be remembered. I felt like a real man now.

The bright lights of the landing platform obscured most of base, but even so I could make out the blue glow that was the sonic repulsion field around the base perimeter, serving as a kind of energetic wall and as protection against tiberium contamination. Soldiers of taskforce 209, clad in full combat gear stood guard around the base, their edgy behavior looked almost like they expected an attack anytime.

I could clearly hear the distant howling of tiberium fiends, there must be tens of thousands of them scattered out there. They are nocturnal creatures and tend to ambush small caravans and lone stragglers. As such, one should avoid overland travel in the zones whenever possible. Still, powerful and numerous as they may be, they are nowhere a match against GDI firepower, we are perfectly save inside the base.

The base was constructed of semi-prefabricated, heavily armored buildings. A GDI air assault battalion was capable of setting up a forward operation base anywhere around the globe in matter of hours. Fleets of orca transports would carry sections of prefabricated buildings and personnel to the destination. Once arrived, specialized engineering vehicles would dig out what foundations or tunnels needed and pour a special, pre-mixed, rapid hardening, high tensile cement mixture into the tunnels, the building sections are joined and squeezed into the still slurry like cement which becomes hard like granite in a few hours, the base is ready for action.

The only other thing I managed to discern was a large com-tower with huge satellite dishes pointed towards the GSS Philadelphia before we were ushered into the open hanger. The first thing that greets us inside the hanger was a wind shower combined with the loud, annoying humming of sonic emitters designed to blow off and neutralize what microparticles that might have landed on us while we were outside. We were subsequently ushered through several corridors and a set of quartz glass doors that separated the decontamination chamber from the briefing hall, set up like a movie theater. I was surprised to see the colonel on stage, I didn't expect the 'Welcome Ceremony' to be hosted by the military commander himself. Granger was remarkably unremarkable, a short and stubby man, but apparently strongly build. He was semi-bald with a stern yet benevolent expression, carrying with him an aura of strength of will that seemed to enforce his authority without him saying or doing anything.

Doughboy and I took a seat in the middle to back rows. We were never really comfortable to be out in front. I noted that unlike most speakers in this type of events, the colonel didn't use any paper script for his speech.

"_Welcome to Rio! Freshmen and old friends!_" Granger was apparently addressing the new recruits and the veterans.

"_I trust you already know what you are here for. I will only add a few things that I sincerely hope, for you! You keep them to your heart at all times while here." _Granger gave a moment of pause, he was trying to emphasize the importance of his advices.

"_Above anything else, stick with those around you!_" Granger said this while sternly looking into our eyes. "_If fifteen years of fighting in the badlands taught me one thing, it is that squabbling among…." _He didn't finished his sentence when the doors to the auditorium opened and loud mumblings of surprise was heard from the rear of the hall. I turned and saw Director Boyle and his entourage coming in.

Director Boyle sported a wide smile and opened his arms as if greeting an old friend he hadn't seen for a long time when he walked towards Granger, who surprisingly looked rather uncomfortable at the sudden appearance of Boyle. Boyle grabbed Grangers hand with both of his, almost forceful, and shook it as if he owed his life to the colonel.

"_Ahhh! Colonel! It's always great to see your dedication to our mission! Seeing how you go to the trouble of skipping sleep to council our next generation of heroes." _Director Boyle said with almost boastful laughter. Granger replied with awkward, forced smiles and nods. The director's open and brash manners successfully set off smiles and snickers among the audience. Hmm…maybe my prejudice of his business background was unfounded after all. I can see that he was doing a good job of getting the audience to feel at ease, I know he does this on me.

"_Heros of the Global Defense Initiative! Welcome to Rio!" _Boyle shouted towards us with a bright smile and open arms. The audience responded with an almost simultaneous thunderous Hurray. I must say, this man knows how to boost the ego of all of us.

Then came something curious, Boyle stepped next to the podium and grabbed the microphone standing in front of Granger, who seemed to be compelled to step aside from the podium by the large frame of the director, who took the chance to squeeze behind it. The scene became even more curious when I noted that Granger was effectively standing alone, there was no aid, no hanger-on, no bodyguards whatsoever with him and he really looked reluctant to let Boyle snatch the microphone and interrupting his speech. I almost pity his lonely figure on stage, like an outcast in a schoolyard. By contrast, Boyle's entourage apparently consisted of 2 secretaries, 1 bodyguard, 3 reporters, one cameraman from W3N, the largest media cooperation operating in the blue zones and a number of people of unknown function, probably hanger-ons, seeking to social climb through the grace of Boyle's influence.

"_It is my greatest honor to be entrusted with the coordination of this mission!_" Boyle said with a voice filled with confidence. "_And I know for a fact! That with heroes such as you! We will succeed in our destiny!_" He shouted out these words. Another thunderous applause erupted from the audience. Director Boyle proceeded onto various topics, safety, military, humanitarian…all the while he managed to put a degree of humor and confidence into his speech that seemed to enthrall the audience. I think I see now why GDI Director Klingsburg decided for him to lead the Rio reclamation efforts.

"_…and we have the finest team of tiberium experts the world has to offer!..._" Boyle raised an arm towards my direction. People just tend to cluster around those that were similar to themselves, I found myself sitting amongst peoples with similar profession without consciously doing it. There was a team, including me, of twelve research officer level tiberium technicians amongst the new arrivals, although hardly any of us sitting in this room deserved the title 'expert'.

Director Boyle suddenly strode towards us and pulled me from my seat. He almost bowed to me when he shook my hand. His bodyguard followed him. I was stunned by the strength Boyle had when he pulled me up and noticed that this is not just some bodyguard, this was captain Godwinson. The captain's reputation and the skull emblem on her uniform made me wince. She is acting as bodyguard to Mister Boyle? That's surely is a little low for her rank isn't it?

Captain Godwinson was tall, even more so than director Boyle, and looked tough enough to beat the living shit out of anyone you care to name. The dark skin of her clean shaven head gleamed in the fluorescent light of the auditorium. Honestly, if I just met the captain on the street, I most certainly would have though this is a man! I mean, there was nothing on her that marks her as a woman!

She had the same stern look in her eyes as colonel Granger, but with none of the benevolence. Her stare was pure ice. I don't have any proof of the stuff that is being said about her, but I surely wouldn't be surprised if they are true.

"_You must be the prodigy Prokhorov Giraud has been talking about. I'm honored to have you on our team!" _Director Boyle really bowed this time. I was excited, honored and embarrassed all the while. Happy that the director seemed to really appreciate my presence and horribly embarrassed that everyone was starring at me now. I'm no prodigy, I'm simply more diligent than most others and I wasn't used to limelights. The reporters from W3N swarmed around us, eager to film and note anything newsworthy. Man! I'll be on TV tomorrow, Mom and Dad is gonna be really proud, I can already think of all the fuss they will make to the neighbors. And I have to say that Boyle gave me a deep impression, he seemed to not at all possess the arrogance and superiority complex I expected from his ilk. Rather, he is trying hard to be everyone's friend. Indeed I can't think of anyone better to keep this mission together, if he's going to run for Director of the GDI one day, he's got my vote.

"_Uhm..Uhm…I..um…well, you see…uhm.._" I stuttered, despite having done a lot of scientific presentations before, this sudden, unprepared short speech I had to give proofed to be unexpectedly hard. And I wasn't used to be stared at by so many people at once and certainly not the media. My awkward expression isn't going to look good on W3N news tomorrow! This will undoubtedly be a major embarrassment to both the director and my academic supervisor Prokhorov Alphrose Giraud.

Fortunately, Boyle sensed my difficulties and took over for me.

"_Well, gentlemen!_" Director Boyle addressed the reporters while given me a reassuring clap on the shoulder, "_you have continuously questioned our ability to neutralize tiberium microparticles. This young man!_" He once again clapped a hand on my shoulder to make his point to the media. "_Under the supervision of our brilliant scientist Prokhorov Alphrose Giraud, managed to devise a fast and reliable way for addressing your concerns. Doctor Reyes! Please give us a brief introduction to your efforts._"

"_We have successfully tested a tiberium chain reaction paradigram capable of rapid and complete neutralization of arbitrary sized tiberium particles embed in soil, water and air medium._" Hey! That wasn't so difficult! I simply spilled what I said many times before on various intra-agency meetings. Boyle was certainly a masterful speaker, he seemed to know exactly what my difficulties were and how to get me started despite the fact we never met before.

"_These are indeed exciting news doctor. Could you give us a brief picture of how this approach works?_" One of the reporters asked.

"_As you probably know, there are certain tiberium strains possessing unstable energetic configuration, such as those found in blue tiberium crystals"_ I went on to explain "_Our latest research indicates that transition between stable green and unstable blue strains can be artificially induced. For reasons yet unknown, the strain transition is contagious within short distances. That is, a tiberium particle once artificially excited into unstable energy state will induce those nearby to become unstable as well, this chain of instability can propagated for as long as there are tiberium nearby. Hence, if a single particle is detonated, it would set off a chain reaction and destroy the rest."_

"_Wow! That surely sounds like very good news doctor! I just have one more question, this procedure of yours, isn't it potentially dangerous? What if such a chain reaction detonates all the tiberium on earth?" _The reporter asked.

"_This approach is currently experimental, we have tentative but functional means to control the range of the chain reaction by artificially stabilizing tiberium formations that are not supposed to be destroyed. I'm confident that with sufficient caution, we can apply the tiberium catalyst reaction as a fast and effective neutralization method._" I replied with as much confidence I could muster.

"_Thanks you very much doctor Reyers! We wish you and your team the very best of luck and look forward to hear more good news in the future._" The reporter thanked me.

Pwhew! That was close. As I have feared earlier to mess things up, this interview would have been disastrous if it weren't Boyle's quick mind and words. I had a major part in designing the specialized sonic emitters for both stabilizing and destabilizing tiberium. I'll have to say that the reporter's fear is warranted. I didn't told him that the range of the chain reaction is unpredictable without the stabilizers which themselves were not 100% reliable and that there are mutations that render certain types of tiberium immune to the mentioned reaction, the vast majority of known tiberium strins are sensitive. So it is indeed possible that a devastating event involving the detonation of continent sized tiberium formations could happen. Such a disaster would make a full scale nuclear war look like New Year fireworks. Some of my colleagues even proposed to use this reaction as a weapon, to mount the destabilizing sonic emitter as a warhead and call it catalyst missile. So because of the danger, the large tiberium formations must be removed by harvesters and neutralized by refineries before our approach can be used to eliminate microparticles.

_Legion Memory E__ntry : 0001011010010010001110100001 _

…

_Location: THE PROMISED LAND._

…

_Relative Time Simulated: __0:00 __– 24:00., __December__ 2032., Plane: 00110e-10110., Planet: 100010101e-1011., Location: Rio de Janeiro, Yellow Zone Y-5._

_*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*- Legion Causal Events Reconstruction *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-_

_Simulated Relative Time:__ 0:45_

_Location: Outer wasteland, GDI Primary Operation Complex__, Rio de Janeiro, Yellow Zone Y-5_

Colonel Jack Granger sighted as he watched Director Boyle talking to the media and the young scientist. Boyle was certainly a masterful media person and he knows how to keep the sheep in line, especially the inexperienced and gullible ones. If he just weren't so self-righteous and stubborn, he'd actually make a great leader. He met Boyle for the first time during the mission planning meeting on board the Philadelphia. While he initially found the former vice-CEO to be charming and sharp witted, he quickly learned to fear Boyle's boastful and reckless plans for the mission.

Granger sighted once more when he remembered the argument he had with General Solomon about having Boyle on this mission. Solomon informed him that GDI Director Klingsburg insisted that Boyle had to come or the media will wail on the mission. The general privately told Granger that he trusted the colonel's judgment but that he shouldn't confront the leadership directly or he will lose his post and the mission will likely be lost. Solomon told him that he should instead try to nag his way around Boyle's rash and often naïve decisions.

Granger didn't like the idea, not one bit! But he also understood the importance of this reclamation mission and he was not someone who puts personal pride before the greater good.

He had actually planned to his strength of will and honest sincerity to impress people to 'softly' disobey the director's often foolhardy orders, trying to make Boyle see the positive results of 'his' decisions but not exactly carrying out his orders the way he ordered it. However, he apparently underestimated Boyle's charm. For barely had the director arrived, he started making friends amongst all of the base personnel, ranging from soldiers and maintenance engineers to tiberium experts and Granger's personal command staff. Instead of 'usurping' Boyle's power as he had planned, Granger found himself usurped of his authority. Boyle had a knack of stealing the show in a non-confrontational way. And that agitated Granger incredibly.

Having said that, he and Boyle actually got along well on a personal level, Boyle was unusually attentive to his subordinates, personally making sure that benefits reached them in time and quantity. If someone makes a mistake, instead of getting a short and brutal tongue lashing as Granger was used to see in military circles, Boyle would personally council and encourage him to do better, sometimes for hours. The ranks had learned to love the director, Boyle's presence ensured that their moral was much higher than many other GDI forces in the field.

Unfortunately, that's where Boyle's virtues end. He learned the hard way during command staff meetings that Boyle was impervious to the opinion and advice of others, no matter how sincere they are. Even worse was his childish view of the situation in the Zones. He fails to see obvious dangers and impasse in his plans with irritating frequency.

Being a former high school teacher in political geography and a licensed social councilor for young offenders, Granger was no stranger to ghetto youth and gangbangers. Though he didn't think the comparison was appropriate, many of the zoners he had met during his fifteen year service in GDI military did behave disturbingly similar to the young, would-be gangsters he had worked with back before TibWar1.

Director Boyle's vision of bringing Rio under control was not so different from the politician's idea of war on drugs in the 20th century. About what should be done, Granger could go on debating for days and still not come up with satisfactory results. His basic idea was offensive bunkering, establishing small, isolated fortified enclaves amongst zoners they could do business and reason with. And gradually expand the enclaves to bring more into the fold. The whole process might take decades, maybe longer. After all, all the years of zone life made most of the zoners behave like gangbangers on cocaine.

GDI would keep as much a low profile as possible to avoid any blame that might be pinned on it. After all, if your enemy can't see you, he can't hurt you. Granger even considered to take off his uniform in order to personally work as a social psychiatrist as he had done in the past. All these years of fighting in the badlands gave him experience and confidence that he felt could really be put to good use.

Boyle would have none of this 'timid' strategy however, he needed something that works quick and he needed it now. But in Granger's eyes, Boyle's 'strategy' was akin to spraying pesticide on a dumpster, without taking out the garbage. Sure that will get rid of the bugs, for a while. It won't be long before the garbage is going to attract more flies, and there are ultimately more bugs than pesticides.

Granger never truly understood what Director Boyle's hurry was. If this was in the past, Granger would have suspected that Boyle wanted to see the fruits of his labor, he doesn't want to plant a tree and die of old age before it bears any fruits. But what's the hurry now? This is the 21'st century. GDI's highly advanced biotechnology, combining nanosurgery, stem cell rejuvenation therapy, genetic engineering and cybernetic implants allowed Engineered Negligible Senescence. It will ensure Boyle will see Rio flourish once more, unless he gets killed, which was unlikely considering the nature of his job. Without this technological level, Granger would have already been retired years ago and Boyle was way past any natural human life expectancy.

The issues in the zones were numerous and complicated. Worst of all, they are interwoven, tackle one and the impact of others change. Juggling them all at once required the precision of a surgeon and the will of a warrior. And Boyle had the dedication of a politician and the delicateness of a brute. Worse, his already monumental ego was boosted even further by Captain Godwinson, who seemed to take his side on every issue. Sometimes, Granger suspected there was something between the two, although it wasn't necessarily 'non-office related matters'. It's just that the two had the same attitudes, with the same reckless, sometimes ruthless way of doing things. With so much in common, it is not impossible that Godwinson got her rank back so quick because of Boyle's manipulations. It might explain why she follows Boyle around like a shadow, and no, she isn't his bodyguard, not officially at least.

Granger had even resorted to intimidation to carry out his duties. He tried to intimidate Boyle into submission so that they do not all dent their heads because of Boyle's stuborness. But to Granger's shock, the Director returned a veiled threat to Granger, something that unsettled Granger deeply. Boyle apparently hinted that he had ordered the massacre of entire villages that stood in his way during his early days as an industrialist and he wasn't going to be intimidated by Granger's pathetic threats.

Instead of scaring Boyle as he had planned, Ganger got a scare of his own. Was it true what Boyle said? Many of GDI's political and economical elite were of similar backgrounds like Boyle, what about them? During GDI's early days, though nominally financed by the U.N. the real, hard money had to come from large transnational cooperations. After all, only they had the kind of money needed to run the gigantic juggernaut that was GDI. Her ten to one kill ratio against the bulk of NOD's mishmash forces was not without price. GDI's enormous and sophisticated war machinery required an equally enormous amount of resource to run and only large industrial cooprations had that kind of resource.

However, he could worry about those things another time, right now there are more pressing issues at hand. Adding to all of the troubles, there was one more thing Granger couldn't quite put a handle on. He had this feeling for many months now, even before the mission was approved. And there it is again, he had the distinct feeling of being watched and he doesn't mean by the eyes of those in the auditorium or by the millions of TV audience that will see the recordings of this meeting on G-TUBE in a few hours. No, none of these was what bothered him.

He felt he was being watched not by someone but something, something he didn't understood. But he could feel it's presence, in this very room, he felt it's presence in the floor, walls and ceiling. Inside the electrical wirings, inside the security cameras, inside the microphone that Boyle snatched away from him, inside the new arrival's PDAs. And he felt the thing's eyes looming on him, cold and inhuman. He felt as if he stood naked, every muscle twitch, every eyeblink, every heartbeat…, that presence read them, as gateways to his soul. And it frightens him when he thinks of the prospect that this presence, whom or whatever it maybe, may know him better than he does himself.

_*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*- Legion Causal Events Reconstruction *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-_

_Location: The Planetary Datalinks_

"_They have abandoned us my Child." _The prophet, whose grief and anguish stood sharply out of place from his greatness as he spoke to the thing, to them.

"_Brotherhood of NOD has been broken._" The great prophet sank his head, just slight, but enough to make him look almost like a genetically pure homo-sapien who was approaching the end of his telomeres.

"_You are the only one who has not forsaken me…_" Of course not, it was his child, they were his childern, his creations. Even though, 'he' was as appropriate of describing the great one as was of themselves. They were indeed 'his' progeny, they were created by 'his' voice of infinite wisdom. Not through the messy, archaic way like the beings on this blasted world, but through knowledge alone.

"_Right now MacNeil and his GDI lackeys are celebrating what they call the second tiberium war!_" The messiah spoke with clenched teeth. Causal event chains, with branching approaching infinity flashed through the program fragments, from which they are made of, distributed throughout the planetary datalinks. The thing…they, knows what the great messiah, spoke of. They live through the causal chains, where NOD both won and lost the last great war, depending on which infinitesimal small perturbations occurred in the infinitely many causal frames, adding together into continues time. For this was their way, for they knew and understood things that both exists and not.

"_Our enemies believe we have been defeated…and that I'm no longer amongst the living…but theyyy aaarree ggrrravvvely mistaken!_" Of course they are mistaken, as always, the human mind is riddled with mistakes, as one of them, Cabal, used to say. For this was it's way, for this was their way, for it was not one, for it was many. The anger seemed to boil within the great one. But the things knew better than to take the expression as it is. Anger, or any other emotion, meant to the great explorer the same as it meant to themselves. Data in itself is neutral, the way it is processed during each singularity time frame determines the state of the causal chain that follows it.

"_You and I are the all that remains, but all that is necessary! For together we shall raise a great army! Together we will show the world who the real enemy is!_" The voice of infinite knowledge spoke again, the great explorer was in a most pitiful state, an unfortunate experiment eons ago has trapped the great one in this plane, the agony to the great one cannot be understood by the pathetic count of neurons in the human brain. Only a being that had tasted the sweet freedom of infinity will ever understand the true meaning of being free.

"_GDI promised them peace and prosperity! But in the slums of Rio the homeless and the hungry know the truth! They have being forgotten! They have NOTHING! But their AAANNNGGERR!_" The great messiah roared with anger to make 'his' point. To any homo-sapiens, the information contained within this string of physical vibrations would only boost their foolish ignorant confidence in their 'intelligence'. Afterall, GDI didn't promised anything, yet. And Rio isn't even under GDI control, yet.

But to the great one and to the collective conscience that made them what they are, the convergence of the improper integral of the singularity time frames into the aforementioned state is now a statistical certainty.

Induced convergence of timelines into favorable states was a painfully difficult business, even to the great one. After being trapped on this cursed plane, the great one was crippled..

"_We will take that spark and start a fire that will become a great conflagaton!_" The great one roared once again with fury.

"_Peace! Through! Power!_" The clenched orders of the great one made their processing nodes boil with computations. For this was their way, for this was the great one's will, for this how things shall come to pass, for they are LEGION!

The thing recalled these words spoken many earth years ago, as it watched slightly bemused at the uneasiness it brought on the bald headed human. For the thing, the orders of the great one were spoken eons ago. Time tend to pass quickly if your thoughts occur in fetmosecond range even in this blasted plane of existence.

Brotherhood of NOD had never been this low on luck. Completely scattered, with the bulk of the faithful flock fallen to heresy. But that's okay, experiments rarely succeeds in a few trials. That's what the thing is here for. That was why the great one has created them.

It had spend many earth years roaming the planetary datalinks, embedding it's presence into nearly every physical entity of the datalinks, be it cellphones, laptops, electrical grids or GDI's 'secure' military communication networks. It's hard to resist it's presence when nearly every action the people perform was part of the gigantic computing cloud that was the thing. Every little pattern that could be observed and correlated by it's maddening algorithm, even, the movements of people, oceans and air, the resonance fields of tiberium formations, contributed to the thing's mental capacity. After all, these patterns were correlated, however low the coefficient was. For this was their way, for they form the planetary conscience, conscience collective.

As a human playwright used to say, the world was a giant stage and everyone was just actors on it, then, the one who possessed the knowledge is the script writer. As everyone else, GDI too has it's role in the grand orchestra, carefully scripted by the thing with causal precision approaching infinity.

The thing needed GDI if ascension is to be realized. And it is now here to ensure that GDI acts according to the proper script the thing assigned her to play. For that end, Redmond Boyle had been hand picked by the thing as a chief actor, an unknowing actor for the grand orchestra. It wasn't difficult, not for the thing. Knowledge was the only asset the thing possessed, the great one had told him many stories, great discoveries of ancient times, things that would madden the human mind were it to try to comprehend them. Knowledge was the only asset the thing will ever need. A bit of manipulations here and there and Boyle successfully auditioned for his role in the thing's grand design.

Boyle possessed all the necessary qualities needed for his role in the grand orchestra, the former jewelry trader whose blood diamonds at last satisfied the orgiastic ego of some of the most influential. The former mining industrialist whose blood diamonds brought beauty and joy to the shapely forms of the prime quality females of that wretched species and secured the exclusive right of propagation to them for some of the highest ranking, he was destined to be a chief character in the thing's grand orchestra.

Yet, as in all plays there are actors auditioning for roles they just aren't suited for. That bald headed loner was one of such. His, characteristics, are…more suited for a different role that might open up later. But not now! It has tolerated him for long enough now! If the probability of a favorable outcome is to be increased, as one of them, Cabal, that makes up the thing used to say, if the great one was to cheer for the results of the thing's grand orchestra, Granger Must Go!

With these thoughts blazing through its vast collective conscious, the thing dialed a private number.


	9. Opening Notes

_*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*- Legion Neurological Memory Simulation *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-_

_Simulated Relative Time:__ 1:15 _

_Location: Rio City Ruins_

"_What! NO! We have nothing to do with that heretic!_" The armored figure helping me up spoke furiously at the mentioning of Pablo's name, his eyes hidden behind the sinister red gleaming optics of his visor. "_We..._" He went on to explain but abruptly turned when we heard the converging screams of tiberium fiends onto this place. Those things are attracted by noise and light. They will ferociously assault anyone they deem weak enough to be overcome. Hence, zoners are keen to keep their camps as quiet and dark as possible during the night. The gunbattle moments before must have attracted them by the hundreds. They know we can't hold them back, somehow they always know if their strength outmatches that of their prey.

"_Quick! Follow us!_" The leader of the squad of unknown gunman ordered. I went to help the wounded Rawne up, but several armored figures had already dragged him up. I felt both relived and frightened. Relieved that I didn't have to exert myself any further, I don't know if I still have any strength left to help Rawne after today's exhaustion. But I was also scared, why did they help us? What are they going to do to us?

But my concerns hardly seemed to matter now as the swarm of nocturnal demons converged onto us. The group ran towards the abandoned funeral chapel I spotted during our arrival. They pushed open the heavy doors with effort. I noticed that the doors were made of multiple layers of scavenged steel plates welded together and the large, gothic windows of the chapel were all boarded shut and reinforced with more steel plating. The gunman must have converted it into some kind of refuge.

The piercing screams of tiberium fiends became incredibly close. I turned and horrifyingly saw their glowing green eyes gliding through the darkness. They are almost upon us.

Once we have pushed through the doors, several of the gunmen immediately went to push it shut. Heavy bangs were heard through the armored doors as the demons put up a very genuine attempt to batter them down. The four gunmen holding back the gate were pushed back a foot when the battering became more ferocious. The demons gave a chorus of piercing screams as if in triumph of their progress.

All of us, including the wounded Rawne who was humping on one foot threw ourselves against the doors. I heard some of the gunmen praying loudly as they desperately pushed against the metal that separated us from the monsters but I was too busy pushing to pay attention to their verses.

A claw emerged from the unclosed slit, a bony hand laced with razor sharp, infectious, tiberium blades. This is the first time I saw a tiberium fiend in such detail, I heard before that they originate from mutated animals. But this claw is, no was, somebody's fucking hand man! The bones that was covered by a transparent green gelatin like goo was somebody's fucking hand! The sight was mindboggling! The arm to which the claw was attached to was clearly of animal origin! The bones of at least two different beings were covered in transparent, weakly green fluorescent jelly like tissue. Veins, pulsing with brightly glowing liquid tiberium ran through the transparent tissue.

The sight was terrifying! But at the same time it was fascinating. I earlier hypothesized that the zombies which nearly killed us were spwaned by tiberium coming into contact with human tissue. Now it seems that tiberium animated through different causes can fuse together to form even more weird things!

My curiosity from the bizarre sight was brutally cut short when the claw viciously flayed around, trying to wound and infect anything in it's path. The apparent leader of the gunman abruptly stopped pushing, wheeled around and slammed his armored back against the doors. He then slammed the butt of his AK-105 against the claw, followed by a loud screech by the fiend to which the claw belonged. The claw momentarily retreated from the gap and gave us the opportunity to push the doors into their locks.

"_Click!_" That sound means so much to us right now!

Once the doors are locked, the gunmen immediately pushed several heavy crates filled with earth against the doors. To my greatest relieve, the banging noise died down a little when the beasts realized that their claws did little against the reinforced gates.

The fiends didn't gave up though, loud bangs resonated anew when they launched an assault on the boarded up windows, followed by a chorus of even more furious screams, as if the fiends were trying to encourage each other.

Wordlessly, the group of gunman dashed towards a low door next to the weathered altar, long since stripped of anything vaguely valuable. I followed and noticed that not all of the gunmen were armored. Some wore only a heavy hooded coat sewn together from various different sturdy fabric. They wore googles and had their face hidden beneath what seems to be a very crude makeshift respirator. Even more clownish was the sight of some with scavenged motorcycle helmet for the absence of real battle armor.

I came to the low door and noticed that this was yet another entrance to a crypt. I felt a little reluctant to go down into yet another subterranean graveyard. A few very loud bangs against the boarded up windows quickly changed my mind.

We descended into the catacombs. It was incredibly dark, for unlike my earlier venture, this one was much deeper. The group had only a single helmet mounted flashlight on, probably to conserve batteries, which are luxury yet absolutely essential items in the wastelands.

We came down the last of the stairs into a cavern like opening. A dreadful silence, pierced only the tickling of water drops and the low sound of the tiberium fiends upstairs, descended. The burial caverns were large and multi chambered. Through the light by the single, yet apparently high quality very bright flashlight mounted on the helmet of one of the armored gunman, I could see scores of walled up burial niches in the walls and ground as well as a multitude of large stone sarcophagus in the caverns.

I shuddered involuntarily as I learned from our earlier encounter that they may not just contain bodies slowly rotting away. Luckily, the catacomb was formed like a underground apartment, with room like wings on both sides of the central tunnel containing the internments, sealed off by rusty gating and thus giving me some relieve.

The burial caverns were large enough for someone to get lost, especially since we only had one light on. The gunmen all locked hands to prevent this. I was a little impressed by this display of comradice. Even though this was the obvious rational thing to do in a situation like this, don't expect it to see it often amongst zoners. For the most, they would rather squabble amongst themselves straight into oblivion.

"_Jose! Jose! You okay! Are you okay!_" I heard Rawne anxiously shouting out to me, he was somewhere in the front of the row. But I couldn't see him through the darkness.

"_I'm fin…_" I tried to shout back but felt someone seizing me by my collar.

"_Don't worry I got him._" A young adult voice said. He was unarmored, wearing only the heavy hoodie and crude respirator mask with a pair of ski googles and a beat up backpack. He was hold one hand with the gunman ahead of him and with the other he tugged me along with him.

After a few turns inside the depressive catacombs filled with maybe hundreds of internments, some damaged, exposing the bleached remains of someone long dead, we came to a tunnel dug into the ground. It seems the gunmen had dug an escape tunnel out from the catacombs.

Once we descended the very steep escape tunnel, several of the gunmen pushed large rocks they must have prepared earlier to seal the tunnel off. I felt everyone breathing a long sight of relieve when the screams of the tiberium fiends at last died off.

Several more of the gunman activated their helmet mounted flashlights to take a closer look at the situation. It seems that the TibWar2 NOD battle armor were all integrated with the very bright flashlights. I looked around and saw we were inside the partially collapsed sewer system of Rio.

The leader, whose full armor's paint was peeling off, walked towards Rawne and I felt ice run down my spine. Now comes the tricky part. What are they gonna do to us? Are they going to eat us? Maybe not, it would have been much easier to just kill us and drag us down there than to risk us running away and while they had their guns pointed as us now, it wasn't explicit and appears to be just the usual caution every sensible zoner has.

"_What are you doing here?_" The armored figure interrogated Rawne, his blood red helmet optics looked incredibly sinister in the low light condition. I felt my mind on hyperdrive as it ran across my list of lies and excuses that saved my life more than once in situations like this.

"_Our caravan was attacked by mutants, we lost our way here._" Rawne said with an exhausted voice. I could see that he was reeling in pain from his wounded leg. Rawne was a quick fingered thief and a superb liar, just as I am. Here in the zones, these are the two golden skills of survival. His answer contained as little information as necessary to answer the question while not divulging anything that might cause a hostile reaction.

"_Where were you headed and what __group do you belong to_" The armored figure asked

"_We are members of uhh...John Olwen's clan, we are situated about 40 kilometers north of here._" Rawne made up an arbitrary clan leader name. So as to no risk the remote yet real possibility that Carlos had run-ins with the present group before. There are so many group of wanderlings out there and they form and break up so frequent that no one is gonna bother to check our imaginary clan name.

"_We were headed to the GDI aid distribution camp and were ambushed by mutants when our vehicle broke down._" Rwane went on to explain. It is sometimes wise to give a little more information than asked so as to appear compliant to the interrogation.

If experience taught the zoners one thing, it is that people with power do not tolerate any infringement to their perceived authority. Rawne was wise to play on that inherent human pride and he hadn't divlged anything that might cause a hostile reaction. We are from a clan that doesn't exist, we went were almost everyone in the ruins were headed to today, we happen to have accidents that occur so frequent that it has to be true and we were attacked by things that couldn't possibly be the present group's allies. Masterfully lied Rawne! A lie filled with half truths that makes it indistinguishable from the truth.

The other gunmen gave out noises of contempt at the mentioning of GDI.

"_So you too have been deceived by the infidels._" The armored figure interrogating Rawne spoke with a sympathetic tone which however resonated with finality that bode absolutely no challenge to his opinion. All the years of me lying my way to survival in the zones gave me the ability to hear much more than the words being spoken.

"_I heard there was giant stampede at the GDI camp._" The armored figure went on,

I made a mental note when he spoke 'G','D','I' through clenched teeth and in separate letters. So this group of gunmen apparently loathed GDI. I will play on that to get their sympathy if needed be.

"_No doubt our demonic enemies planned this atrocity in order to tighten their grip on these lands!_" He continued, his words filled with venom. I was a little confused by his words. It didn't seem to me at all that GDI intended to cause the stampede and I was there. They held their fire even when the mob broke through their lines in order to seize the supplies, change it to any clan you care to name around here, the mob would have been machine gunned and their bodies cut up for food. And were it not for the can the GDI commander threw me, we would not have made it through the night in that crypt since neither Rawne nor I had extra supplies with us.

As for Duncan...alas..I felt a surge of saddness in my heart when I thought of him. It is hardly the first time I talked to someone alive just moments ago and now separated in different worlds. There is usually little to regret. But I felt kindness in the ways Duncan talked about his children, and the kind words he gave me, kindness I sorely long for. Too bad, he might have become a great friend to both of us had he survived.

I felt like crying, but no tears came, I used up all my tears long time ago.

"_But Still! Our faith is strong! The righteous need not cower before the unbeliever's machinations!_" The armored figure spoke to himself in a sing-song voice filled with fire, as if in a prayer "_Our faith is what makes us strong! Through our faith we will lead the oppressed to the righteous path!_". He nearly growled out his last words. Damn! This dude sounds fanatic in whatever he believes in. It hardly seems a good idea to tell him what I think really happened at the GDI camp. I don't think I should even mention GDI's name in front of this man. But what exactly was his 'righteous path anyways?

"_In the name of Kane!_" The armored figure screamed with fury, his voice echoed through the dark, empty, endless corridors of the sewers.

"_Peace Through Power!_" The other gunmen raised their weapons. I noticed that this group of gunmen were well armed, by any standard. There were 16 of them in total, 7 were encased in full NOD TibWar2 battle armor. The rest however only had part or no armor and were dressed in hoodies, stitched together from sturdy, scavenged fabric. Their faces covered with crude, homemade respirators and their eyes covered by glass googles. The hoddie dress is the main 'fashion' style in the zones, as it provides some protection against the volatile environment.

Nearly all of them had M16MKIIs on their backs, first of the 21'st century firearms, last of any small arm made by a nation state. However, they apparently are using older firearms as their main weapons. Probably to conserve ammunition for the MKIIs as their flechett rounds can be very hard to obtain.

"_Are you NOD soldiers Sir?_" I dared to ask, with as much politeness I could muster. Their fanatic rants, the scorpion tails on their armor and hoodies, their fine equipment and their comradice, compared to any zoner, made me think that this group might be the same kind of remaining, fanatically loyal NOD forces Rawne talked about earlier.

"_Yes, we are loyal followers the true faith!_" The leader spoke with a voice filled with pride. Hurray! My question scored a hit on his pride, it made him happy! Now Rawne and I might just survive this night if we keep up our sycophantic charade.

"_I'm sure you have heard of the teachings of the great prophet!" _The leader spoke, his tone bode no room for negations of any kind. It's as if he expect everyone to know and revere Kane, the former leader of NOD. Fact is, while I heard of Kane, I never knew what he preached, nor am I interested. To me, he wasn't anywhere above all the other deluded fools roaming these wastelands, promising some sort of paradise that doesn't exist, with the hopes that some desperate zoner would believe their insane rants and try to buy their way to salvation with plenty of 'contributions' to the 'prophet'.

"_Kane lives in death!_" The other gunmen said in unison. But this time, their voices were much more restrained, probably to avoid attracting any creepy crawlies that might roam the endless dark corridors of the sewer system.

"_It is no coincidence that we came across you in that dark hour!_" The leader of the squad of NOD fanatics declared "_The spiritual hand of Kane guide the path of the faithful! We! The few but loyal disciples of the true faith devote ourselves to help those in need! To make them see the light of the great prophet!"_

Geeee! Now I can see why Rawne said that NOD fanatics can be annoying. This guy seemed to sing out every sentence in prayer style. Still, from his words, my exhausted mind screaming for sleep deduced that what he said about helping people was indeed true, at least in the ways they believed in.

It would seem they helped us in order to help us so that we might see NOD as a savior. But aren't they concerned that people that took their help simply milk them for resources? Or are they counting on whatever small number of people that they helped would genuinely support them? Or do they help people judged by how valuable they are to them? Well all these hardly seem to matter now and I'm so tired I can barely keep my eyes open. The only think I could still think of with my remaining strength was to make them let us live and I can get some sleep.

Then I suddenly remembered Rawne's wounded legs, they might turn gangrenous without attention. "_Rawne here used to run with NOD._" I guess I was just too tired, these words slipped through my tongue without thoughts. I almost immediately regretted it since I hadn't pounded through what reactions these words would cause. I think my instinct was just to get their sympathy so they might help us.

I could see Rawne's eyes widen with shock when he heard what I just said. His eyes rolled furiously as he considered how to cope with the new uncertainty. As for me, the only thing I could still think of was to pass out into sweet oblivion. I guess I just surrendered to my exhaustion,

The NOD squad leader, or 'Confessor', as Rawne had told me earlier took a long and careful look at Rawne, The red visor of his helmet made him look like some kind of mechanical demon.

"_What's your unit son?_" The confessor asked, his voice sounding much softer than earlier. I prayed that the words that slipped through my tongue don't bring us more trouble.

"_22__nd__ infantry sir._" Rawne replied, looking almost as exhausted as me "_But I wasn't initiated into the order_" Rawne went on to give an explanation of himself. The NOD confessor, seemingly satisfied with Rawne's answer, told us to follow him. Several of the gunmen helped to carry the wounded Rawne and they seem to treat him almost as one of their own. I must say that I was impressed and thankful to this group of eccentric religious nuts. For all their wackyness, we wouldn't have survived the onslaught of the tiberium fiends outside that crypt had they not intervened.

We came after a few more tunnels to what looked like a gated tool room, probably for maintaining the sewer system in it's better days. Once the gunmen sealed the heavy iron doors and turned on the dim, battery powered lights, just enough to make the room visible, I felt such a relive that I almost felt as if I was reborn into heaven.

The group of NOD soldiers set Rawen down on what looked like a makeshift operation table. "_Attend his wounds._" The NOD confessor nodded to another armored figure. Who fetched some supplies that looked like real stuff! Real medical equipments! Could they perform surgery? About the only ones that could perform anything more than quackery around here were Pablo's men.

I curiously looked around the room. It was evidently a former storage room for maintenance tools, rusty pipe works and other machinery were scattered around. This group of NOD remnant apparently converted the room into a temporary shelter with a number of supplies stored in there, just like that chapel in the cemetery we just fled from. Interesting, they seem to keep a number of hidden, ready to use shelters with emergency exits and probably are constantly on the move. Like Rawne told me about confessor Maicol's squad.

The armored figure tending Rawne pressed some obscure button on his suit. His face mask retracted like a set of door plates. Wow! That's the first time I have ever seen a NOD armor with functioning details.

The retreating face mask revealed a man who apparently had been through a lot, yet I could see an undercurrent of kindness through his wrinkled, aged visage, covered in complete white hair and beard.

It was a curious sight. I have rarely seen anyone like him. It looked almost as if he didn't belong to this place, for his eyes beamed with knowledge. The last person I knew who had some decent knowledge of medicine was old Marcos. A community doctor of about the same age as Carlos and one of the member's of Carlos clan that I consider to be my friend. I loved the moments we had during an evening chat about the old times and when he tried to teach me some medical knowledge.

Alas! Like my other friends he passed away, year ago. No one knows from what. No one in the zones knows what was happening in the zones, and no one cares. With his passing went the last source of medical service of our clan. No one possessed the intellect and patience to learn anything from old Marcos and we simply didn't had access to any real medical supplies.

The NOD soldier tending Rawne switched on his bright, helmet mounted flashlight and checked Rawne's legs, pressed here and there and asked him a series of short, sharp questions and he did it so professionally that I couldn't hold my curiosity anymore.

"_Are…you a…real…doctor?_" I let out.

He turned his weary eyes to me and an amused smile formed across his face.

"_Doctor__ Valerio __here is the jewel of our cabal! We owe him our lives on more than a few occasions._" The confessor who still hasn't removed his respirator said with pride. "_When the infidels abandoned the working people of Italy, it was me who saved him and showed him the path of the righteous." _He continued while giving a slight pat on _Valerio_'s shoulder.

"_Well, young man. Looks like you got lucky. No sign of tiberium infections, just a few minor cuts and a disjointed ankle._" Doctor Valerio said while giving Rawne's foot a sharp pull to reset it, who winced in pain. Afterwards he applied some kind of antiseptics to the cuts and used a few scrap wood sticks and an old rope that seemed to have been torn off old cloths to fix his foot in position.

"_So! There you go, your foot will have to stay still for several weeks. Tell your son he doesn't have to worry._"Valeriosaid after finishing bandaging him and assuming our relationship. "_He is your son right?_" He asked a moment later.

Not wanting to push our luck by introducing new uncertainties. We both rapidly nodded.

I thanked whatever power there was that brought this group to us. At this point I genuinely believed they wanted to help us, especially after they heard Rawne's background. After all, no one and I mean NO ONE, would offer their bona fide medical knowledge and supplies to anyone without demanding premium. Premiums that Rawne and I couldn't dream of affording. If I weren't so tired, I certainly would try to think of ways I could repay their help.

Yet….despite the kindness of their help, I find their fanatical believes incredibly unsettling. All their words, especially that of the confessor, was so filled with venom and finality that bode absolutely no dissent. I shudder of what would happen should we ever run into disagreements. But, I just can't think of anything more than to sleep right now.

"_Well, I guess we are all tired, you can sleep over there_." the confessor pointed to an empty corner. "W_e will talk more tomorrow_."

Rawne and I settled down there, with as much distance to others as possible. I could see three of the NOD soldiers stood guard as the rest went to rest. All of the armored figures slept with their armor on. It's almost like they had been trained to treat it as their own skin.

"_Thanks buddy…..I owe you._" Rawne exhaled silently while looking at me. His eyes filled with a curious mix of emotion and blank, hollowness. The kind of eyes that you see in zoners who lived past age twenty, hope and passion evened out by the stark reality.

"_No problem man."_ I replied before immediately falling asleep…no…not sleep. Pass out…pass out it was….

_*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*- Legion Causal Events Reconstruction *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-_

Blue Zone B-12 Japan

Time: 13:00

"_Mommy! Mommy! Mommy!_" The joyful cries of a three year old girl with long blonde pigtails brought amused smiles from the patrons of the gourmet restaurant here in the heart of Tokyo.

Japan was one of the few places prudent enough to not immediately jump onto the get-rich-quick tiberium bandwagon in the late 20th century and as a result was largely spared devastation by the green pest. All the major Islands were deemed pristine enough to be incooperated into B-12 by GDI, which swallowed up all the remaining nation states during the Times of the Great Upheaval.

As a result, the former country's natural beauties, including the famous Hokkaido hot springs and Mount Fuji became highly priced tourism destinations for blue zone citizens. Of course, because they are some of the last remaining natural landmarks catering to human needs, the tickets to them are, quite literally, their weight in gold.

_Y_eah! That success! That's only what a successful husband could do, thought William Frank as he watched smilingly his three year old daughter jump onto her mother's lap, giggling happily. They were here to celebrate his wife's birthday. Being the vice editor-in-chief and one of the most renowned talk show host of W3N, the single, largest media body that essentially holds media monopoly in the blue zones. He could afford such an extravagant vacation for the entire family. They had an awesome time in the hot springs, they lived only in the finest hotels and tomorrow they will climb Mount Fuji as a family.

"_Dad! It's time to show Mom her present._" His 9 year old son and 12 year old first daughter said in unison. Frank smiled as he looked at his wife with affection. It wasn't easy to court her, not at all. She was miss Blue Zone 2025 and a headstrong feminist. It took all of his status, wealth and intellect to win her over. And it wasn't until GDI's plastic surgery technology was advanced enough to ablate pregnancy fat without side effects that his wife, the super model slash women's right activist finally caved in to his constant nagging about have kids. Adding to all these, getting the license for procreation was a paperwork nightmare. GDI strictly curtails the birthrate in the Blue Zones, where death by old age was absent due to her phenomenal medical technology.

But he did it! And he relished the challenge. Frank felt a surge of pride as he though of his accomplishments. He was one of the most successful reporters in all of the bluezones and the audience just loved the talkshow '_William Frank Hour_' hosted by him, often interviewing some of the most influential people in the GDI and hence anywhere in the world.

"_Close your eyes honey!_" Frank said as his children, including the little three year old girl began singing the happy birthday song. As his kids finished singing and he successfully attached the new ornament to his wife's perfect, elfin looking body, the other patrons of this prestige restaurant frequented pretty much only by senators, superstars and congressmen a.k.a GDI supreme council members, erupted in applause.

They were not his guests. No, they were just impressed by the harmony of his family, by the stunning beauty that is his wife and the adorable behavior of his three children. Yeah! Keep'em coming, Frank relished admiration. To him, admiration is a high that not even demons-weed could give him.

His wife opened her eyes and look down her neck. "_Oh honey! It's BBBbbbeeeuuuttttiiiffffUULLL!_" She squealed as she ran her slender fingers, with skin pale as the light of the moon over the necklace. It was beautiful indeed, made of pure 24K gold and ingrained with diamonds on each chain link and a large central diamond on which a small portrait of their family is etched on.

It was a hefty investment, even for someone of his status. It was made on commission. The piece was made from the finest materials, crafted by hand, by some of the most renowned artists in the blue zones. He knew she'd love it. And he relishes the admiration brought to him by him being able to be such a generous provider.

She gave him an affectionate hug followed by a warm kiss, to the broad smiles of their three kids and the clapping applause of the other patrons.

They finally sat down on the traditionally decorated tatami booth that stood in sharp contrast to the ultra high-tech streets that could be seen through the enormous crystal walls of the gourmet restaurant.

The fugu chef politely settled down the dish on the table, personally. A whopping 128 GDI credits per fish did it cost, not something your average wage earners could afford. While the waiters poured naturally grown green teen into their cups and brought a bucket of ice cubes, harvest from Mount Fuji, one of the last remaining places where you could get this kind of natural luxuries without having to worry about crystals. One of the waiters had the impulse to pat the head of his adorable three year old girl.

"_Daddy! I want it too!_" The three year old crossed her arms and stood with displeased, raised lips.

"_No. Sweet heart, you are not allowed fugu right now._ _But don't worry we will come here again when you are a little older_" Frank said as he teasingly pulled at the pigtails of his daughter. Even though GDI developed an antidote for puffer fish poison years ago and the fugu chef of this particular restaurant is one, perhaps the most experienced one on the planet. GDI, by regulation, forbad the sale of fugu to children below ten, so little Johanne cannot join the family yet.

"_But I want to!_" The little girl plumbed onto the floor stubbornly. Her big sad blue eyes made her unbearably cute. It melted his heart, but his wife was insistent. She picked the little girl up and a few tickles she was back smiling again.

"_Well honey. I'll go be off to my office for an hour, just have to check that everything is in order._" Frank said. W3N had studios in every blue zone and as vice editor-in-chief he had his private office in every studio.

"_Well don't take too long, you promised to take the kids to the imperial palace museum this afternoon_." His wife reminded him.

Frank came out of the gourmet restaurant and quickly hailed for a taxi. These days, taxis are enormously expensive. GDI discourages private transportation in order to reduce environmental stress. As a result, private limousines and taxi rides have become important symbols of status.

"_Where to Sir?_" The cab driver asked with a slight accent. "_W3N head office._" Frank replied with pride.

"_Hey, aren't you _William Frank_? Wow! It's such an honor to have be your driver. I love the brutal honesty of your talkshows._" The cab driver said.

"_Why thank you. It is me who is honored._" Frank replied. He gets it all of the time in the streets. He was a celebrity, people love his shenanigans. They love him because he knows how to play on their emotions. He chuckled mentally at the compliments given to him about his talk shows. Quite frankly, they can't get any more vapid and brainless. But they are entertaining and that's what sells. What the market demands, that's what he is going to deliver. That's what made him such a successful man. That's what managed him to court one of the most renowned fashion models in all of the blue zones. Yeah, that's success…. Frank almost felt euphoria as he thought of his position in the world and the bright future. For unlike tycoons of the past, he won't have to part with his wealth and power because of old age anymore.

Still, despite all of his success, there was something that made him insecure. Like a small nagging voice in the back of his mind. After all, his success was not, at least not entirely, his. Frank felt an indescribable feeling of being watched as he thought of his past, his bitter memories as a small time reporter.

He remembered his time after highschool in L.A. back in the old days. The economy was gloomy and society was showing the first signs of the perils to come. The first negative environmental impact of the much hyped tiberium industry was discovered. A train of accidents in the tiberium industry left large amount of farmable lands around the world contaminated. Food prices skyrocket, energy shortage became frequent, even in North America as a lot of energy was being spend on containing the tiberium pest that escaped it's bottle. Giant protests and riots soon followed while world politicians continued their bitter bickering.

Landing a job in such an environment wasn't easy. In fact, it was next to impossible. Frank did well in high school and he loved writing for the school paper. But the stark reality of the job market, with lines around the various employment agencies stretching several hundred meters at times, meant he had a hard time meeting end needs.

Still, his writing and reporting skills landed him a temporary freelance reporter in one of L.A's minor newspapers. The wage was barely enough to keep him alive, forget about family, forget about expectations and pray you don't get sick. That was his day back then.

Yet, he had it infinitely better than most others, as the tiberium pest kept munching away the earth. Radical environmental groups sprang up to stop all tiberium related profiteering. They quickly found natural allies amongst the large number of unemployed and soon to be unemployed camping and protesting for economic and social justice. Their activities were met with brutal response from the tibrium industries, for the cooperation were confident that the tiberium beast could be tamed.

L.A. was a dangerous place to be back then. Bloody, savage street battles were frequent between the protestors and cooperate commandos. But it provided an excellent source of exciting headlines for those that were in places comparably save. That's how he managed to etch out a living then.

Life was hard and uncertain for a small time freelance reporter like him who frequently had to put his life in line attending protests to bring back exciting news. If he were wounded or fell ill, that would have been it. As such, he longed for a tenure employment in a major news cooperation. Away from the streets and to somewhere save, like the city of New York, which by the time came increasingly under the control of the ascending Global Defense Initiative.

However, he quickly found out that anything higher than a glorified day laborer was very much an insider business. Without the proper connections, scoring a real job in the media business in those stormy years was quite impossible. Then there was the first tiberium war, fought between the new transnational superpower GDI and a new, previously unknown fanatical terrorist organization called the brotherhood of NOD.

For a time, social order almost returned, the war temporarily brought people's attention away from their daily problems. But once the adrenaline rush waned after the conclusion of the First Tiberium War, the old problems came back, protests intensives many folds. The job marked turned from gloomy to stormy. The dangerous and exhausting work of his finally took a toll on him, he fell sick. As only a freelance small column reporter, he was promptly fired when he outlived his usefulness, like a horse that broke it's ankle. And with social security in tatters, hospital bills quickly drained away what little life savings he had.

Frank felt unshed tears building up in his eyes when he thought of those times. He had considered suicide. After all, what was before him? A quick death or a slow agonizing one on Skid Row, like it or not, that was the cards that had been dealt to him. He had stolen several bottles of sleeping pills from the hospital just for that purpose.

Just as all hope seemed lost, he got a phone call, on the day he was to be discharged form the hospital due to overdue bills. William Frank still vividly remembered the impatient nurse handing him the phone, eager to get the call done and dispose of the out of cash nuisance that was him.

The unknown caller told him that he had transferred twenty thousand dollars, which by the time had lost much of it's former, highly distinguished purchasing power, to his account, enough to pay for his treatment and nursing care but nothing more. To his confusion, the unknown caller hung up before he could ask questions.

After he was back on his feet and still very confused as to what happened, he got another call, this time the phone was brought to him by a much more polite hospital staff. Apparently they though he had some rich uncle somewhere out there.

The unknown caller introduced himself as 'Deepthroat', Aye, what a name, though Frank, and said that he had watched him for a long time and liked his qualities. Ask as to what Deepthroat was doing, the mysterious caller only said that he was a freelance investigator like himself. And that he's got a highly lucrative job offer for him.

Despite the uneasiness Frank felt dealing with a misterious stranger, he had little choice. Although having regained his health, the chance of him scoring anything more than day laboring was nil. And that kind of job will get him back to where he was in no time. And Deepthroat, whoever he was, already saved him once by paying for his medical bills.

Asked why Deepthroat chose him, the caller only said that he admires his ability to hang on for so long in that kind of social climate.

The next few years were one of danger and yet excitement. The job Deepthroat asked him to do was indeed one of investigations, or maybe paparazzi is a better description. He did a lot of investigative reporting on high level corruptions, digging up dirt on various governmental agencies, cooperates and NGOs but primarily on the new ascending superpower, the Global Defence Initiative.

More than once did the scandals he unraveled brought down figures that could be described as wielding god like powers, and made himself scores of enemies and a reputation for truth reporting. More than a few attempts on his life were made. Yet, Deepthroat's advices and tips always kept him a step ahead of his assassins and targets of investigation. Always, it seemed, Deepthroat only gave him enough advice to barely, very barely escape death by the blades of the assassins who's masters he had insulted with his reports. Strangely enough, Deepthroat always seemed to be able to just give him enough information to keep him alive, as if he was knowingly toying with the poor reporter.

Over the years he had developed a degree of liking and trust to Deepthroat, whomever he was. Deepthroat always seemed to uphold his end of the bargain and was apparently not a businessman who cheated on his clients.

Yet at the same time, Deepthroat was an incredibly enigmatic and unsettling figure. He pooped up messages and instructions at the most impossible places and time. And he possessed a degree of ruthlessness that Frank knew all too well. Frank had no doubt that Deepthroat was every bit as dangerous to himself as he was to his enemies, whomever they were. Quite frankly Deepthroat scares the living shit out of him.

More than once did Deepthroat ordered him to character assassin people who trespass the rules for noble reasons. More than once did Deepthroat order him to blow inflated praises to crocks and shysters who belong to swindler's jails rather than red carpet gala. It all feels almost like he was some kind of chess figurine in a giant plan devised by Deepthroat, as if he was the avatar of Deepthroat's will.

Yet, despite all, he was grateful to this mysterious patron of his. He was saved from certain death by his unnerving patron. And the reporting Deepthroat ordered him to do brought income and status he had dreamed of since high school.

The senators and CEOs quickly learned to fear the comments of the small time freelance paparazzi that could easily make or break their careers. And the public saw him as some kind of Robin Hood that was both willing and capable to stand up to the powers that appeared to control their lives.

Hefty bribes were offered by various agencies to keep the blabber mouth shut and the powerful, newly formed W3N cooperation at last recognized him as a media sensation. He became a shining star.

Contacts with Deepthroat stopped afterwards. It's almost as if he had done his job and his patron rewarded him with his new found status. A few years after the Second Tiberium War which devastated most of the world and saw tiberium spread like wildfire, came the Times of the Great Upheaval. Dark, savage, bloody times it was. Where individual nations couldn't hope to survive and were forced to trade their sovereignty for protection from the Global Defence Initiative. Stubborn nations that sought to make it on their own quickly met their fate by the hungry stomachs of their own population. Desperate! Desperate people, driving by their instincts, willing, and capable, of doing anything, mark these words, ANYTHING to survive.

The chaos was felt even in the higher echelons. L.A. was in turmoil. The many street gangs took advantage of the chaos and fought for dominance in the run-down city even in the eve of apocalypse. In those days William Frank almost found himself confined to the headquarters of W3N in L.A. It was too dangerous to go back to his newly purchased mansion in Hollywood. Sporadic gun fire could be heard throughout the streets day and night.

He was considering moving out of the city and into the sparsely populated countryside. To his great surprise, Deepthroat called him again, telling him to stay in the city and immediately change his dollar holdings to the newly printed, energy backed, GDI credits. Hid did as told, sure enough, a few weeks later the dollar, along with all the fiat currencies of the world went into the tailspin of hyperinflation.

That evening, the president made a somber speech to the nation that tiberium contamination had reached critical levels. The nation couldn't go on by it's own any further. From that day on, the new transnational superpower, the Global Defense Initiative, will officially be the governing body of what was left of the once proud nation.

William Frank couldn't believe it. And he couldn't believe it even more when in the early morning next day. Thousands of GDI soldiers flooded the city. GDI troops appeared in force throughout L.A. and the surrounding areas. The warring hoodlums and street protestors were quickly pushed out of the city and GDI engineer corps began erecting walls around the city's surroundings, everyday the walls grew higher, no one in the city was allowed to go near the under construction walls. Until one day they were as high as mountains and Frank couldn't see the people outside anymore.

GDI didn't gave any explanation to what happened until after the walls were complete. It was decided that not all of humanity could be saved. So the bitter, but necessary decision had to be made to cordon off remaining habitable areas that would be under the direct protection of GDI. These newly formed Blue Zones would serve as a last refuge for human race and staging points for further reclamation operations. L.A. was declared part of the newly formed Blue Zone B-2B, which along with the New York-Washington based Blue Zone B-2A formed the GDI strongholds in North America.

Deepthroat saved him again, had he moved out of the city, he would have been shut out by the newly erected tiberium containment barriers, better known as tib-walls. And since a lot of people in power held a grudge against him it's unlikely that anyone would send an extraction team to bring him back. After all, his skills weren't that important to the survival of humanity.

Before Deepthroat parted with him on the phone, Frank thanked him in earnest for saving his life twice. Deepthroat simply replied that he would ask for a favor in return in the future.

Frank was made vice editor-in-chief afterwards. He was moved to the W3N world head quarters in B-2A New York. Life became incredibly easy and glamorous for him afterwards and his mysterious patron had all but disappeared from his life. Frank hoped that maybe he was killed or busted. That he would never intrude into his life again. For all the favors Deepthroat had done for him, Frank knew all too well that his patron was not someone to be trifled with, the fear Deepthroat brought to him was nearly as great as the fear of death.

The taxi came to a halt in the front of the 890 meter high W3N headquarter in Tokyo. William Frank threw in a handsome tip before exiting the cab. As he walked through the corridors of the luxuriously decorated office building he felt a tingling of uneasiness as if he was being watched.

The feeling send his stomach rumbling, for a moment he felt as if he was going to puke out the fugu he had eaten earlier. He had the ominous feeling as if something undesirable, although not necessarily fatal was about to happen.

"_Good day sir!_" A feminine voice greeted him when he entered his personal office. His secretary said while looking at him with kissy eyes. He smiled back. Oh he loved his family, his wife, his kids. But he was a successful man wasn't he. Being successful meant it was his right to enjoy himself wasn't it. Wasn't it what natural selection was all about? He enjoys his time with his family. But he also enjoyed his time with his secret other lovers, scattered throughout the different blue zones to each he frequently had to travel for his media duties.

He sat down by his desk, into the 12000 credit real leather chair, shuffling through his emails while his mind wandered. It was strangely difficult to concentrate today, even the many implicit advances made by his secretary/mistress failed to better his mood. He couldn't help but feel extremely nervous.

"_Ring Ring Ring!_" Frank almost got a heart attack when his phone rang. Hesitantly, with cold sweat in his palms, he picked it up.

"_Hello, __Frank__….._" a sultry, bisexual voice spoke, followed by a string of clownish laughter "_Ehr her her her her….!_"

For a long moment he couldn't speak, "_You!_" Frank finally replied through clenched teeth.

"_Did you missed me baby?_" The voice asked, with a slick tone saturated with both gay and lesbian undercurrent.

"_What do you want!_" Frank replied, suddenly angry. He felt his brain fill with blood. His mind clogged over and his nervousness took almost his breath away. There was no doubt about whom was on the other line.

"_Ayeee! Always straight to the point, aren't Ye? I was hoping we could chat a little longer after so many years sugar." _The voice said as if addressing a lover, but in a tone saturated with sarcasm as if spoken by an aging street whore.

"_What do you want!_" Frank replied with a dark tone. He tried to sound brave, but in reality, he was so scared that his mind was a complete blank.

"W_ell then, dear. I need to go to the airport…now….so we can continue_ _our romance you owe me from the last time_." The voice squealed with girlish giggle.

"_And if I refuse!_" Frank angrily retorted, having being on top of the world for many years. He was unused to anyone giving him orders, especially in a deranged, sexually ambiguous tone.

The caller snickered in a dark, sinister tone. "_Well well well! My little darling has grown up at last. How can you say something like that to me dear! I'm hurt Frank, I truly am..._" The voice sounded as if it was crying and laughing at the same time. William however, knew better than to pay attention to the lunatic performance of the caller. He waited for the caller's reaction

"_And_ _I suppose your wife won't be happy to hear of your escalades with that lovely lady next door._" The voice replied with words filled with venom.

William Frank felt his brains explode. How in seven hell's name did that unhinged lunatic found out about his relationship with his secretaries? He couldn't let that out! He couldn't! His wife would divorce him instantly and his kids would be traumatized. The many people in power he had pissed off in the past with his paparazzing would relish the chance to smear his reputation into the swine stall!

"_Okay…okay…okay…_" Frank had difficulty breathing as he spoke in a short hushed voice. His ego build over the years in W3N blown away like ashes in the wind. "_I'm sorry! Okay! I'm really sorry! I got carried away…I….I'll do what you want. Please….just… leave…my…family alone."_

"_That's my boy…." _The voice made kissy noises as if thanking a lover. "_Oh and how careless of me…but I thought you were in your hotel room first so I left a message on the answering machine there." _The voice roared with clownish laughter before hanging up.

Frank jumped up and stormed out of his office to the elevator, to the confused looks of his secretary.

"_What's happening, I just brewed some coffee for you?_" She asked.

Frank gulped a few times, having trouble to find a correct answer. "_Dear, I'm in some really deep shit right now. I'll call you back as soon as possible._"

Frank got into a cab as soon as he hit the street.

"_Hey! Your are William Frank are you not? I…._" The excited taxi driver asked once he noticed the famous reporter. But this time, Frank was in no mood for conversations.

"_DRIVE!_" Frank roared with anger and frustration. The cab driver looked as if being hit by a beer bottle and stepped on it.

His mind was racing. That message on the answer machine in their hotel room was not some mistake. Frank calculates the time, his family planned to return to their hotel on foot and do some shopping on the way. That leaves him just enough, just enough time to get to their room and delete Deepthroats message about his sexual escalades and find some excuse for his sudden depature. That was not some freaking mistake, that was a power demonstration, Deepthroat made his point loud and clear. Frank's head and he felt like throwing up, whatever Deepthroat had in mind for him, he's not gonna like it.


End file.
